


The Path of Least Resistance

by Huinari



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Friendship, Gen, Huinari's rule of making OCs to kill applies, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Nohrian princes and princesses dying, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, Pairings to be revealed later, SI waking up as Corrin, Semi Self-Insert, a bit of worldbuilding, a curse is a great excuse to get out of not knowing anything, amnesia curse, but it's not too serious, but not too important so don't worry about it, game system, interludes for important characters are a little more serious, main chapters will be full of panic and swearing and not being serious at all, my beta disagreed, okay i lied a little more than a bit, other characters have a bit of a mistaken understanding about what 'Corrin' is thinking, supposed to be written as lighthearted, the game system keeps threatening to kill Corrin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huinari/pseuds/Huinari
Summary: Or, falling into Fire Emblem Fates and waking up as Corrin when you sucked at the game and have no idea what's going on, and what do you mean 'people are going to die'? What do you mean 'I can't get out'? What do you mean I 'signed up for this' – oh, right. Lunatic Classic mode. Damn it. Self-Insert.





	1. Prologue - Ties That Bind: How I Fell

**Author's Note:**

> AN: not written to be taken seriously. Due to the self-insert, will slowly but surely cause ooc amongst everyone at least once throughout the story. Meant as light reading/just something to kill time. Rated because a lot of swearing, as the first and last words in the chapter very clearly prove.

Fuck.

Alright, take a deep breath. Calm yourself, me. Me calm? Good?

Okay.

Sorry for starting off like that, but god damn it if you were in my situation you would have sworn too.

Speaking of my situation, sorry, gotta let it rip again.

Fuck.

Believe it or not, I've actually softened it out a bit. If I was really voicing everything I was feeling without a filter, well, let's just say I'd never actually get started with the story.

If I was a storyteller, I'd start with something that sounds pretty, or poetic, or just nice.

'This is a story of fate – countless decisions that all come flowing into one large river, to join the ocean's grey waves – and choosing to hold onto both by siding with neither.'

That's how my brother would describe it. But he's a dick, because he's the one that got me into this mess, so I'm not going to use that prissy description.

So I'll tell it to you up straight.

This is a story about a girl who played a game she didn't really know on a super hard mode because she didn't think things through, and had no idea about the consequences.

That girl sounds like a Lunatic, and she is.

And that girl is me.

Fuck.

* * *

 

Let me be clear on something. I'm not much of a gamer. My friends may disagree with me on this one, because I have a 3DS and I play Pokémon, but really, compared to my brother, I am not much of a gamer. He played everything, from the abovementioned titles to Sonic, Zelda, Mario, and a bunch of other titles I didn't know.

Not much of a gamer. I just know the ones I know, and I know them well.

But I was getting a little bored of Pokémon. I was Champion, the strongest in the region, and all the stories and missions were cleared. There was nothing else left for me to do.

I was bored, but I didn't want to delete my file and start again – I was too attached to my party.

And the root problem wasn't just that. I didn't want to go around catching fantastic beasts in tiny balls to make them fight for me. I wanted to try something new. Something different. Not just different in the 'gym leaders replaced with island trials' different, but different entirely.

I said all this to my brother, who had gotten me first attached to Pokémon. He was currently busy staring into his phone, tapping away and humming lightly.

"So?" I asked when there was no answer.

"You should get this game on your phone," my brother said, slowly – reverently – moving the mobile device into a summoning circle made of cards, charms and print-out images, all of the same one character.

I smacked the idiot behind his head. He'd been the one who got me into Pokémon, but he played other games as well, while it was just Catching Them All for me. Right now he was playing something else, and trying to pull me into it.

"And make demonic summoning circles for a waifu?" I said, looking at the picture of a character who had the misfortune of being my brother's latest fictional crush. For someone with a not-too-bad face – and this was not a biased opinion for my fraternal twin – he really needed to get out more and make better use of it.

"Hey, Tumblr promises that it works," he protested as he adjusted the pictures and scented candle slightly. "And it's not demonic. My intentions are pure."

"What game is this?" I sighed as he reached for his phone like it was a holy relic and began tapping at the screen. "I don't think I have any more room on my phone after Pokémon GO."

"Fire Emblem Heroes," he said, and I blinked. Fire Emblem was a familiar name, but I'd never played it when he told me about it before, because he first mentioned it around final exam times in the last year of high school.

I did great. He, being a genius, did nearly as well despite having skipped as many classes as he could without failing to graduate. Life was unfair.

"If you don't want it on your phone," he continued on, eyes slightly glazed over. "Play a DS version of the series."

"Where's the game for the DS?" I asked. It was summer vacation, and a weekend besides. Time to play something to kill the abundance of time I had on my hands.

"in the game drawer. Fire Emblem Fates: Birthright. Now hush," he ordered. I was tempted to kick him in his side because of that memory. Maybe bust a kidney or something. If he nearly died from that, well, served him right for being so weak. "I need to confer with the heavens so that they can grant me the serene grace I need."

Translation: shut up so I can get my lucky mojo going.

I dug out the game, and was tempted to not play it when I saw the cover.

"Is this going to be just outright Japanese otome?" I called. It looked like some sort of time and dimension travel stuff, where good looking people from different times all came together onto a battlefield to take a group photo and look good. Judging from the different types, you could probably choose your favorite and then seduce that one until you were happily married.

Or you could have a Sims marriage, too, filled with cheating and affairs and all the dramatic shit you wanted to run away from in reality. I doubted it, but you could.

_"Not outright!"_

Nice.

_"Yes!"_

By that loud cheer I assumed he got his waifu. So, game in hand, I grabbed two cans of soda and rejoined him.

"Explain that to me," I said, throwing the game cartridge case onto the seat next to him.

The mojo kicking him left him generous, so he set down his phone to speak. "You're a prince or princess growing up in a kingdom called Nohr, but it turns out that you're actually from Hoshido, which is like the neighboring kingdom that Nohr has a long rivalry with. Depending on which one you choose – your adopted family, or your birth family – the game changes. Conquest, which is Nohr, or Birthright, which is Hoshido." He tapped the box with the art of the Japanese-looking people plus some others. "Although  _they're_  not actually your birth family either."

"What."

That goes against the very name, doesn't it . . . ?

"Fire Emblem is a strategy game, where you have to factor in advantages," he said, once he was done his abbreviation of the game's story. "But unlike Pokémon, you're moving units across a field for a purpose. Usually to clear out the map of any enemies, but sometimes the objective is a little different. Oh, and you have more stats to deal with, and it's harder to level up or EV-train."

While he talked and sipped at the soda I handed him, I made a new character. It was my first time, so he recommended that I play easy, with something he called 'Phoenix mode'. "A safety net," he called it. "You literally cannot die."

We rushed through customizing my character. I went with the default name, 'Corrin', and then saved in the file he pointed to.

"Play Birthright first," he said. "Then Conquest."

I didn't know anything, so I just started, figuring I'd pick up stuff while playing through.

* * *

I played through Birthright, and then went to the Branch of Fate option to choose Conquest. And both sides left me heartbroken, but not all that impressed with the gameplay.

"It was boring," I said when my brother asked how I found it. "No one on my side dies but people fighting me die in heartbreaking ways. I still can't believe Xander accidentally killed Elise! And then I kill him! I didn't want to kill him!"

"What about Takumi and Ryoma?" he asked, when I didn't continue on.

My answer, like the thunderously cracking whip of Indiana Jones, was lightning fast. "Fuck Hoshido." After playing and watching people who didn't have the common sense to be on my side die, I learned one thing – that I was Nohrian scum, through and through. Sorry not sorry. "I like the Nohrian one better, even though they were both boring. Nohr was just less boring, and also I like the people there better."

Alright. Up to there, that's fine. Forgivable.

But then my brother had to open his big fat mouth.

"You know, I don't think you're enjoying it all that much because you're playing on Phoenix mode," he said.

That was probably true. I saw no reason to do anything except charge my zombie units onwards. This wasn't strategy – it was just a waiting game. And waiting games weren't fun. Half the time I was just skipping every turn and jamming buttons, bored out of my mind.

"So, what?" I asked. "I completed Birthright and Conquest. Played both sides of the game. And okay, there were some really hot guys here, and some of the supports were super cute, but still. I don't want to play it again, especially now that I'm sort of attached to them. Watching my loveys die once was bad enough, thank you. What sadistic freak wants to see  _that_  happen again and again?"

"You've played for the Light side and Dark side," my brother said, ignoring the last part of my words directed at him, and honestly, could he  _try_  to not sound like an edgelord? Seriously. "But what about the last choice?"

I perked up. So it wasn't Nintendo's usual 'buy one game for the price of two'? "What last choice? Is it like Pokémon Black and White, and the Gray that I never got?"

He nodded somberly. "Except you  _will_  get the third option," he promised. "It's called Revelations – and you choose neither side."

"Which makes sense," I said, after thinking about it briefly. "If I'm not actually related to either side. I don't understand what claims Hoshido has over me, by the way, if that's what happens. They need to seriously chill."

"You're related because your birth mom was their step-mom, whereas in Nohr it's just a case of Stockholm Syndrome and Lima Syndrome. You just don't like Hoshido, Nohrian scum."

I cackled. "That's right, Hoshidan bitch."

My brother, ever the drama queen that liked to pretend he was the more mature one, rolled his eyes. In response to that, I very maturely (no, for realsies) kicked him in his shin with the force of an angry soccer mom charging at the coach that benched her kid.

He, of course, couldn't let that one slide.

"Try playing Revelations," he said after the brief tussle we had that I won by jamming my fingers up his nostrils. He was more grossed out by that than I was, and made me go wash my hands with soap and water. "It's the true ending of the game that answers all the unanswered questions in Birthright and Conquest."

"Wow." I blinked. So it wasn't just one game with slightly different choices you got, but instead three different games and storylines packed into one? "I can't believe they put three arguably different games into the price of one." That sounded like an amazing deal, one I wished Pokémon would do instead of splitting stuff all the time.

"You better not believe it, because they didn't."

"I'm sorry?"

"You have to buy the other two paths you don't have as a DLC. Each one costs less than a physical copy of the game, but . . ."

"Motherfuckers," I said simply when what he told me sunk in.

"That was what I said when I first found out, too."

Well, if he paid for it, then it would only make sense to get the full money's worth. I cracked my knuckles, ready to seriously get every cent's worth from the third path instead of glossing over everything like I did in Birthright and Conquest.

"Better just find out what the real ending you have to pay extra for is," I said. "Even if it's just going to be a zombie invasion again."

"About that, there's something you can do to make it more interesting."

"Define interesting." This was the guy that used to think watching ants in a glass box willed with transparent colored gel was interesting.

"Well, you can up the stakes in your gameplay. Fire Emblem is famous for perma-death," he told me. "And you can choose Phoenix mode or even Casual mode, but you could also go with the true spirit of Fire Emblem and play on Classic mode, with permanent death."

"Permanent death?" I asked. "So . . . in-game Nuzlocke?"

"Pretty much."

I was the type of person that cheated when playing Nuzlockes. "That sounds like scary shit. Why would you even do that."

My brother smiled in that 'I am superior to you in every way' way. I resisted the urge to punch him in his face. Just barely.

"It's strategy," he said like that explained everything. "Every choice you make has consequences, and lives aren't things to take easily, especially in war. It makes you really think everything through, and as a result enjoy the game more."

"It sounds like it takes balls," I replied.

"You have lady balls. They're just as strong as man balls, aren't they?"

Honest to goodness, holy shit had he not said that, I probably would not have done it.

But he did, and now I had to do it or risk having my ovaries questioned. This was a challenge to the girls, and I had to fight for my girls.

"Give it a try. Revelations is easier than Conquest, but harder than Birthright."

I sighed dramatically. "Goodbye, Phoenix mode," I moaned, and was met with an option. "Wait, so if I want perma-death, I go Lunatic?"

"Huh? No, you don't have to – oh, but that's a good idea. Go Lunatic. That's like, Extra-Hard mode. Fates doesn't have Lunatic+ like Awakening did, but regular Lunatic should be plenty challenging enough for you to enjoy the experience."

Understanding like none of what he just said, I looked down at the game. Birthright on Phoenix Easy had been easy, but I messed up a few times because I wasn't used to the game. Also, Kaze died because apparently you need a good support with him or some shit, which I called total bull on. He was married to Azura, he should have tried harder to live for his beautiful wife and hot son instead of making supports with me. Conquest on Phoenix Easy had been . . . harder, because I missed summoning punching bags for gold on already-cleared maps. It was hard pairing people up on those limited maps and resources.

I loved Nohr, don't get me wrong, but this place was poor as dirt. No, that was an insult to dirt. Nohrian dirt didn't grow shit too well. We needed to invade Hoshido and rob it ASAP. At least I got married to Kaze and kept him from being killed in Conquest and two kids with the hot ninja. Sure, on this path he supposedly survives, but I wasn't risking it. His hotness was a valuable asset to this grim world, and it needed to be preserved.

But here's the thing. I'd been playing on Easy, and he thought jumping straight to Lunatic was a great idea. And not just Casual mode, where they just faint and retreat and come back to fight perfectly fine like Pokémon. This fucker was telling me I should play on Lunatic mode. Not Hard mode.  _Lunatic_. As in 'you are a Lunatic for playing on this mode, and should be locked up for the safety of yourself and those around you'.

Honestly the name itself said it all.

This guy. Was offering a beginner. Who sucked at games and strategies. A chance to play in perma-death on the hardest mode available.

LMAO this guy.

But you know what?

This was just a game. Who cared if I messed up – and that wasn't an if, that was a guarantee – and got one or two or all the virtual people killed due to stupidity, inexperience and just sheer carelessness?

_This was just a game_. Was what I thought at the time. And if I couldn't handle it, I'd just delete and start over again, or quit altogether and go back to my safe world of E-rated dogfighting to be rich and powerful.

So me, being me, said this.

"Even though I feel like you're just trying to fuck me over, eh, sure, why not."

LMAO me guy.

* * *

When I found out I couldn't go Branch of Fate and start at the part where I make the decision, I nearly quit then and there.

"I don't wanna go through six chapters of tutorials again!" I whined even as I customized my character. And by customize I mean rush through the default settings by jamming the A button like my life depended on it. "They were boring the first time around!"

My brother frowned at how I was abusing the A button, but I just did not have the patience to spare the 3DS and his precious feelings. He could suck it up, and my 3DS was made out of Nintendium. It would survive.

When I said that, my dear, sweet brother scoffed. I tried to kick him, but missed.

Unfortunately, I couldn't keep trying to kick him because I needed him to look over my choices before I started playing.

"Hey, is this good?" I asked.

"Uh," he said, coming over once he was pretty sure I wasn't going to try breaking his leg bones with my toes and looking over the Avatar I had made. "Corrin, female, birthday March 15, boon is Quick, not bad . . . Bane is Sickly? No. I'm changing it to Unlucky."

"What? Why?" I whined. "I need luck. Lady Luck is my favorite bitch to hang with. She's so awesome."

He changed it, not giving a rat's ass whether his sister would be lucky or not. "Trust me, it's the one you need the least."

"Hey, what if I end up marrying that super unlucky guy, huh? Then we'll both end up dead from our combined misfortune and our kid will hate us. It's the wyvern kid, right?"

He frowned, but didn't change it back. "You're probably not going to marry Arthur," he said dismissively. "And yes, Percy is the 'wyvern' kid."

"Oh yeah?" I demanded. "And how do you know that?"

"Not your type."

I stared at him defiantly. He stared right back, daring me to disagree. I sighed in defeat because dang it, he was right. The Unlucky Dude was not my type. I liked pretty boys.

. . . Hey, don't judge me.

"As for Talent . . . Dragon? Really?"

I was a Dark Mage in the last one because magic. I love magic, and that turned out to be a good choice (in my Phoenix-mode playing opinion) because that Dark Knight skill – Lifetaker – was amazing. But this time I wanted to try something different, and although it may have been redundant riding a wyvern around when I could turn into a technical dragon, I still thought that was the coolest class, hands down. Turning into an antler thing that might be classified as a Dragon-type was fine and all, but those wyverns looked awesome. And, as a bonus, I could still use magic.

My brother, however, read my mind. "You don't get armor like Camilla's," he warned.

"Damn it!"

Whatever. Even with that minor ( _damn_  it . . . ) setback, I was still set on being a Wyvern Rider. My brother tried to convince me to pick a class making use of a sword, but  _fuck_  swords. Swords, as far as I was concerned, were the root of evil in this game. It was a sword that exploded and killed my game-mom. It was a sword that randomly chose me and let me get away without any punishment when my previous sword exploded and killed game-mom and wrecked shit up. It was a sword that Ryoma used – his own lightning sword which was completely OP and helped me break Birthright without doing anything and would have killed me good if not for Phoenix Mode in Conquest – to stab himself in his stomach. It was a sword, Xander's sword of purple and black fire that honestly looked so wicked cool that killed Elise.

_Elise_.

That beautiful, bright, baguette-haired girl was my favorite character. And she died. Like what the hell. She didn't deserve that shit. And neither did Xander.

Nohr FTW, you Hoshidan bitches. And fuck swords.

He handed the 3DS back to me, and I began rushing through the game asking me questions. No, please don't hand over my personal info to the main headquarters of Nintendo where evil people in suits gather in a shady executive room to plot world domination via Lavender Town theme music. No, don't tell me what new stuff you're making or releasing, I'm not interested in that shit.

"Ugh," I said. "Tutorial. Can't you just play through that part for me?"

"It's Lunatic mode, and Classic," he said. "A lot different from Phoenix mode. You might as well play through the first five chapters to get the hang of it."

Before I could reply, I blacked out.

And when I woke up, that was when the un-fucking-believable shit all started.

This –  _this_  is why I shouldn't have put Unlucky as my Bane.

Fuck.


	2. Prologue - Ties That Bind: Into a Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: already deviating from gameplay slightly. still swearing. still has action not picking up.

You ever get the feeling of just sheer bliss by keeping your eyes closed inside a really warm bed? I'm talking that feeling that fills you up, every last cell, when you have a thick, heavy – but not smothering – comforter covering you completely, and you're in just the right position so that nothing hurts, and your pillow is seducing your head to stay right where it is and not move an inch.

Like, with a 'red, thorn-less rose in the mouth and a box of the good, expensive chocolates being offered to you' kind of seduction. And your head just falls hook, line and sinker for the bad pillow boy and his soft, squishy charms.

You're not asleep, not really, because you're sort of conscious, but you might as well be asleep because of that beautifully drowsy lull you're in. My eyelids were the heaviest things in the world at that moment, and I had no intention of opening them.

But the world hates me, of course, and an unfamiliar girl's voice broke through the silence.

"Time to wake up, Lady Corrin!"

Fuck  _that_  shit. No force on Earth could drag me out here, and aliens weren't worth getting out of this feeling for.

But wait, what did they just call me?

The sweet, lovely feeling was still present, like a dream I didn't want to wake from. I decided it – whatever 'it' was – could wait.

"Lady Corrin," the voice was gentle, but insistent.

No, for real, that was a real voice calling me 'Lady Corrin' – which was  _not_  my real name – and that meant someone I  _didn't fucking know_  was in my  _fucking room_  and calling someone which I  _hoped to the high fucking gods_  was  _not_  me.

But honestly the fact that someone was in my room was enough for me to open my eyes. And show me two girls in maid costumes and cotton-candy colored hair look at me with startled eyes.

"What," I said because one, they were in maid costumes and sorry for all the people who liked maids and all, but that wasn't really my thing, and two, they had  _hair like cotton candy_.

No joke, it was cotton candy colored. One was pink, the other was light blue, and oh my gosh I  _know_  these two. They looked like each other for real like actual identical twins instead of the way everyone looks alike if they're animated by the same artist, but I  _knew these people_.

Tell me this is a dream.

I pinched my thighs.  _Ow_.

Okay, not a dream, then.

Fuck. One more time.

_Ow_!

Shit.

"Hey, Lady Corrin!" the pink-haired one chirped, recovering from her surprise first, and due to the difference in voice, I knew the blue one had been the first one to speak. "Up and at 'em!"

There was a sigh from behind the twins, and excuse me, I just woke up from a blackout to see people dressed like some people I recognized and this did not feel okay especially because they were looking at me. Do you know how creepy it is to be sleeping and have someone watching you? I remember going to summer camp and then, at the end of the week, being given a photograph of myself sleeping by the counselor. I felt so violated then I cried really hard and scared her. Served her right for invading my privacy.

But when I took a better look at just who else was in my room and watching me sleep like a creep, I immediately forgave them.

More specifically,  _him_. The young man with the silver hair tied back neatly, with an aristocratic, noble face that couldn't be demeaned by anything, not even a butler outfit.

I didn't know many names of the characters in Fates. There was just too god damn many of them. Mind you, I at least had the decency to remember the names of the people I married – hi, Silas and Kaze – as well as my kids, all my 'siblings', and my retainers. If pushed, I might be able to remember the characteristics of other members in my army that were actually important and named and shit. Not one of the NPCs captured by Eyepatch or Hairdo Lady, but you know. The ones with actual faces.

But I knew the name of the guy in front of me and holy mother of Nintendo.

" _Jakob_?!"

The silver-haired butler smiled, and I swear the room, which was pretty dark, brightened up with the appearance of his pearly whites. "Lady Corrin," he said with a bow. I nearly squealed because um, wow, butler character is hot. Maids weren't my thing, but butlers? Good looking young talented butlers?

Hell yeah. Gimme that good shit. Who cared if he had long hair and I normally thought long hair on guys looked weird? It looked good on him and that was all that mattered.

"Good morning."

"Damn straight," I said. Any morning would be good if a guy with a face like that was there to be the first thing I saw. Like, hot damn. Call a police and a fireman – my heart got stolen and set aflame.

His face twisted slightly in shock, and then I realized I said that out loud. I mumbled it, luckily, so it was unintelligible to anyone listening, but still. Oops.

But wait. Next to him was . . .

I scrambled through my shitty memories and dug out a dusty name so we could move past that slightly awkward moment I had contributed to creating. "Gunter?"

The old man in armor that I had sort of ignored in favor of the young hot guy with silver hair dressed in a butler suit nodded, aged face stern.

Still stunned – not just from Jakob's hotness this time, mind you, but from the truth that was beginning to dawn on me like an actual dawn – I turned to the two girls that had woken me up. Both were looking at me intently, but when I turned to them they gave me reassuring smiles.

"Felicia?" I said, and was rewarded with a nod. And then I had to struggle for a while because I didn't remember the other one's name. she burned herself to death in Birthright and sort of joined me in Conquest but honestly she couldn't marry anyone and I did not have enough opportunities to pair people up because no training opportunities in Nohr so I never used her. "Um . . ."

The blue-haired girl smiled understandingly which made me feel  _super_  guilty. As for Jakob and Felicia, they looked at me sympathetically. Usually I didn't like people pitying me but these were beautiful people with beautiful faces. I'd take any look they shot me as long as they did it with those faces.

Gunter just kept his face chill. Old man, you are cool.

But I'd gotten their names right, and their appearances were familiar. Unless this was a dream – a hard pinch on my thigh that hurt a  _lot_  told me it wasn't – then I was in a video game.

My breathing grew rapid and shallow, and to really make sure I wasn't asleep I discreetly pinched myself harder, this time on my wrist. Ow.

Fuck, this was real.

As if answering the unasked question, a translucent . . . screen thing popped up in front of my eyes, with a picture of a light-haired girl – the avatar I had 'customized' by jamming the A button and rushing through default settings – and a lot of text.

I read the text first. A picture was worth a thousand words and all that, but the words were more detailed in telling me something I needed to know.

[Welcome to the exciting world of Fire Emblem: Fates!

Player: Corrin

Class: Nohrian Princess

LV 1

HP: 19 Str: 7 Mag: 4 Skill: 7 Spd: 8 Lck: 3 Def: 6 Res: 2 Mov: 5

You are a princess who has been quarantined inside a fortress in the northern part of a kingdom named Nohr for as long as your shoddy memories can recall. Your brothers, High Prince Xander and Prince Leo of Nohr, will be here in seven days to see if you are fit to fight outside of Nohr. If you do not pass their test, you will not be able to leave the Northern Fortress.

Enjoy the experience, and remember – every decision has a consequence!]

Fuck, I was in a video game. One silently narrated by a chirpy little shit.

I didn't know who this cheerful fucker was, but already I wanted to find and severely hurt this person.

"It's alright, Lady Corrin," the blue twin said slowly with a calm, serene face like falling snow. The way she said it made me feel like a bunny – as if she was trying very hard to not scare me. "We know it's not your fault the curse erases your memories."

I may not have remembered the game very well, but this was something I didn't remember. "The what now?"

And that was when they all lost the calmness on their beautiful faces.

* * *

They were all professional, and didn't break into a panic attack or anything. Mostly. Felicia was about to say something, but her sister expertly jammed an elbow into her gut, and while she struggled to regain her breathing capabilities dragged her out of the room.

"Just a moment," Jakob, the last to remain, said gently to me before shutting the heavy door and leaving me alone in the room.

Naturally, I scrambled out of bed and walked up to the door, hoping I could overhear them.

"Oh, poor Lady Corrin! Just when it looked like the curse was finally breaking!" Felicia burst out, and someone shushed her. No, please don't shush her. I need to hear this.

I pressed my ear against the door to better pick up on the sounds. Time to play spy.

"Still, this is the first time it has been dormant for three years," Gunter said. "The curse's hold over her is definitely weakening."

"This is also the first time she's  _forgotten_  about the curse," I heard Jakob murmur. My hearing was awesome. Thank you, pointy ears that for some reason no one talks about.

"At least this time she didn't forget us," Felicia said. I winced.

Jakob cleared his throat pointedly, and a gasp followed. "Oh gosh Flora  _I'm so sorry_! I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," the blue-haired girl, Flora, interrupted her sister. "It's to be expected. I'm the one least close to Lady Corrin, after all. It's only natural she wouldn't remember me."

That was  _not_  the voice of someone okay with something. That was the words a person picked when they were very much  _not_  okay with it but trying to hide their emotions so they looked okay.

Guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt  _guilt_. Oh my gosh I'm so sorry Flora. I take back my comment about you being not important. You're important, I promise.

Of all the people to forget, I forget the one that died super tragically. I nearly smashed my head against the door, only to refrain at the last second. Better not let them know I was eavesdropping on their conversation. Something told me 'hi by the way I'm not your beloved princess' wasn't ideal for survival.

"As I was saying before Felicia interrupted," Jakob continued. "What if the curse is getting worse?"

The way they were speaking had me seriously worried, because I felt like I was a patient who got chemo and everything, only to be told later that cancer had returned and this time it was going to win.

I pressed my ear harder against the door, because I couldn't hear anything. Either they were speaking more quietly, or they weren't speaking.

It turned out to be the latter, because Gunter spoke again, and I heard him well enough. "Even if that may be true," he said at last. "King Garon has already ordered she be tested. My old acquaintances still in court tells me that he grows impatient."

"But that's-" Felicia began, only for another 'oomph' sound to cut her off in the middle. I assumed it was Flora and her expert elbow jab.

"We can only hope that this is the last bout of the curse," Gunter said, sounding old. "And that the princess is no longer affected by it afterwards."

"What if she's forgotten all her training so far?" Jakob raised his concern.

That wasn't an 'if' situation you didn't have to worry about there, hot stuff. I didn't know shit about fighting with a sword. Martial arts? A little bit, sure, but no swordplay.

"Then, best case scenario, she fails the test and is forced to remain here."

"But she's been waiting for so long to leave," Felicia said. Ha ha lulz sorry but I'm no longer the same Corrin, and I don't really want to leave because I'm fairly sure that life gets super miserable for me. Whichever country I don't choose ends up being half-gutted. Literally, in the case of Ryoma, who jabs his gut with his super special lightning sword.

I didn't need to see that happen for real in front of me. I really didn't.

"That might be the least of our worries, Felicia," Jakob said bitingly. "He said 'best case scenario'. I think I can guess what the worst-"

"Not here," Flora cut him off. "Lady Corrin must be growing confused or impatient."

That was my cue to get away from the door and pretend I heard nothing. I snuck back to the bed so that they wouldn't know I was eavesdropping, and began sorting through all the information. I was in a game for real, and not just a simple, friendly game like Pokémon or Animal Crossing. A game where people died and wars were fought, and serious family issues dragged a whole bunch of people into drama that got way too overblown.

I think I honestly could have sold my soul to the Devil if it meant I could have been in Animal Crossing instead. Although I'd have preferred not being in a game in the first place.

But I was in a game, as if it was reality. I was Princess Corrin of Nohr, in a castle only in name, locked up like a prisoner. I seemed to have little influence in the outside world, having been quarantined for a long time in the fortress castle thing. Shortly afterwards, about halfway through the tutorial, because of reasons I didn't quite remember right now, I would be taken to Hoshido where part of the truth would come out – I was a member of the Hoshidan royal family thanks to my game-mom. Although I wasn't related by blood, but let's ignore that spoiler bomb for now.

Game-mom dies, and the two tense nations spring into war. At the battlefield, I am asked to choose – the family I grew up with, or the family tied to me by birth.

I ruffled my hair, and then ran into a problem when I realized it was longer than I was used to. Like, a lot longer.

Was this girl trying to be Rapunzel or something? Oh, wait, no that was my fault. I had customized her with long hair. Damn my laziness.

A part of me just wanted to take a pair of scissors and cut it cleanly at neck level, but it would probably be best to have someone actually good at hair-cutting do that. Or I'd just tie it back so it didn't get in my way.

Where was I? Right, the choice I would have to make if I decided to go down the gameplay path.

Having already played through Birthright and Conquest once, I was about to play Revelations when it was just a video game. But was that the best idea right now? Wouldn't it be better that I play a route I knew, rather than the path I knew nothing about?

Or, well, I  _could_  choose to do nothing and stay locked up here forever, but I had the sinking feeling that staying inside here forever would do nothing to get me back home.

Going back home. Getting out of this video game come to life. That, I decided, would be my end goal.

And as soon as I had established my final target, I grew frustrated that this had happened to me.

"Ugh," I said. "Why didn't  _he_  come here instead?"

My brother knew the stories front to back. I shit you not, he knew it front to back. When I was in the middle of playing Birthright, he decided to see how the newbie was doing, and he actually recited the scripts before they even popped up on screen.

Here was someone who wasted his fucking genius on useless things.

He would have been great here. Known exactly what to do and what to avoid, and get out safe and sound. He'd have actually  _enjoyed_  the experience, for one. Unlike me, who had to rely fully on my excuse of the amnesia curse to not look too weird.

And speaking of the curse, that was an awfully convenient device. And definitely not what I remembered from playing the game. Memory loss, yes, but not a curse. Maybe it was mentioned just once and I'd forgotten about it because it was never expanded upon? The only thing I could think of was that weird world Azura had taken me down to, where we found Gunter (although at that point I had actually forgotten about him). Maybe this curse was connected to that curse. Or maybe it wasn't and there were too many curses floating around in this world.

But hey, if a curse meant that I could get away with not knowing shit, then call me cursed and bring me a prince to kiss me out of it.

No, actually, screw that. I'm supposedly the sister of all the princes in this game, even with no blood relations between us, so no princes kissing me. Except that dude Izana. That was one cool dude with some seriously smooth hair. Him, that might not be too bad. Was he a prince? I think he was a prince, or someone on par with a prince.

Still, the excuse would pardon me of a lot of things, like not knowing fucking shit about anyone. Like being an amnesiac, which I guess was true. If anyone asked me the date, I wouldn't be able to answer properly.

But that wasn't enough, was it? I left hearing range before Jakob could indirectly tell me the worst-case scenario, but Garon wasn't a nice person in both routes, and honestly a talentless freeloader would get on my nerves as well.

Since Xander and Leo were coming to test me, Nohrian style, I needed to learn how to fight well enough to pass their test, which was single combat against Xander. In the span of a single week.

. . .

I was  _so_  fucked. Sure, he would go easy on me, but it wasn't going to be a video game where I just watched two people duke it out on the 3DS. _I_  had to fight.

Luckily I had two advantages helping me out. The first was four battle units to help me out. Not by attacking Xander – that was going to fail – but by training me. Initially I hadn't been up for it, but the game system proved itself useful in giving me a (very slow) trickle of experience points and weapon efficiency when I sparred with them. Hoping that the test would go something in a game-like fashion, I dove into it, and the four of them helped eagerly.

Felicia was pretty good at fighting. When she was sparring, she had none of her usual clumsiness – which I saw pretty quickly for myself like, five minutes after they finished their huddle to discuss my 'curse' kicking back in. She came in, and then tripped, knocking the mirror hanging on the wall off its hook and breaking it. Seven years of bad luck to you, dear girl. Although that bad luck didn't look like it kicked in during a fight because wow. She was like a pink-haired ice assassin. She did this – this  _thing_  with the icy air around her dagger, and then she was jamming so that she wasn't cutting, but frost bloomed on my skin like flowers so that I knew and everyone else knew that I would have been 'dead'. I got cold a lot during spar sessions with her.

Flora wasn't as good at battling as her sister. She was a little slower, and her skill with her dagger was definitely not on par with Felicia's, as was her ice ability. Apparently she was aware and embarrassed about this, because she excused herself as soon as she was able. Still feeling a little guilty over how I'd forgotten only her name, I let her take her space.

Jakob had the sheer, raw  _strength_  that Felicia and Flora both lacked. Biology, I guess. He didn't have the icy edge the twins did, or Felicia's speed, but he was strong, and really pushed me. Sometimes. He was  _super_  reluctant to spar with me, and every crossing of the blade made him wince. Which in turn made me wince, seeing that beautiful face get crumpled,  _which in turn_  made him fret over me, because he thought I'd been hurt.

And finally, Gunter. In Conquest I used him in like, one battle, and then never again, because by the time he joined my army I didn't have all that much of a use for him even on Phoenix mode. Sorry old man, but to be fair I didn't use Flora either, so you two could have chilled together while the rest of us fought Hoshido and then Gooey Garon. Take a well-deserved break and everything. I mean you guys couldn't really be social and make a lot of supports so . . .

But maybe I shouldn't have judged them – and especially Gunter – solely on their social skills and used them more often because this guy was  _strong_. It might have been the difference in weapons – Jakob seemed to prefer using his daggers, but against the bronze sword that I used, he had a slight disadvantage until he got closer and turned the range against me or increased distance so he could throw them (but he never did that, so that was a moot point) – but Gunter met me, sword for sword. And he was not only strong, but super experienced. His old body had decades of experience, and every movement was smooth and executed flawlessly, like water flowing from one place to another. It came naturally, and in the face of nature I was just a human being that longed to observe nature's wrath from a safe place – aka behind a screen, far,  _far_  away.

If he was like this in-game, I thought after he knocked me on my butt for what felt like the fiftieth time. I might as well have just let him sweep everything while watching safely from the back. My tailbone was threatening to leave my body, and honestly, with the way the area hurt, I was tempted to let it. If my body could have held a referendum on whether it should leave or not, it would have been out in a heartbeat, and none of the half-half bullshit.

This worried me. If the game system applied, then this guy wasn't too strong overall. Then how strong would enemy units be in the final game? Would I be able to reach the final game?

I didn't want to go down that path of thoughts just yet, so I dove into training.

I spent the seven days sparring and cramming as much info into my body as I could, with little breaks between hour-long sessions. Usually this would have meant that I'd be in crippling muscle soreness soon, but that was the great thing about having Maids and a hot Butler all capable of doing magic stuff. Staves were brought out, and healing magic washed over me like a lukewarm, comforting shower that eased out the pain. It was less of 'disappear, foul pain' and more along the lines of 'fast-forward the part on the pain and get it out of the system and over with quickly'.

Gunter, of course, had something to say about this.

"It's not the ideal way to train," he said after my third healing session. Flora had finished healing me, and Jakob, after keeping Felicia a short distance away, was serving tea and cookies. Caramel-scented black tea and oatmeal cookies embedded with dried berries and flavored with vanilla.

Honestly, when I was eating the food, I was in heaven. Never mind the sore, aching body. Never mind that I was tired because the room was unfamiliar and I took a while to adjust to sleeping in places I didn't feel comfortable with. Never mind that I wanted to get out of this world and return home. The tea and cookies, sweet and comforting, washed it all away and left me in a state of warm bliss.

He was just that good at tea and cookies. I think I was never going to be able to drink tea of any sort at any coffee shop. Their tea had never been done well – it was always just a 'stick the teabag in hot water and hand it over to the customer' kind of thing chains did – and now that I had seen the zenith of epically brewed teas, there was no going back. My tea tastes were forever ruined, spoiled by perfection.

"Nothing beats steady training, of course, and healing magic may offset improvements left by training."

I was less worried about that, though, because of the second advantage. Corrin's body was  _strong_. The basic muscles and fitness were already in place, which was rather surprising for someone locked up. I guess she spent a lot of time climbing stairs and stuff.

What I needed was less strength, and more experience. As in, I needed to get from 'never held a sword before' to 'know how to use without hurting self'.

Corrin's curse might have been wiping away her memories, but it didn't seem to have affected her body memory. Movements I didn't know, instincts I knew I didn't have before were popping out during spars, especially when Gunter went Sparta on me. It let me stand a chance sometimes, and based on those I was able to build up a steady way to respond. I could feel myself improving, and Gunter could see it, because he told me at the end of every session what I needed to work on and what I had improved on.

My status screen told me this, too.

[Experience Points: 7/100

Weapons Efficiency

-Sword: Rank E (5/100)]

That, by the way, was the progress I had made after fourteen sessions. As in for every three one-hour sessions of sparring, I had a chance of adding one point to my weapons mastery level, total out of a hundred, reaching max Rank S. Sessions where I sparred with Gunter always raised it quicker than when I sparred with Flora. Felicia and Jakob were the middle ground between the two.

I was still at level one. I got one experience point for every two sessions, and an efficiency point for every three. This was two days' worth of training. I had five days left before Xander and Leo came to the fortress, and took me to my doom.

. . . I was so dead.


	3. Chapter One - Nohr: I Began

Despite my agonizingly slow progress and the timer counting down to the moment of truth, it was still hard to wake up in the mornings. The air was always too cold for me when I woke up, and leaving the comfort of my bed almost  _hurt_.

And the bed. Oh gods the bed. If I thought the pillow was the bad boy seducing me, I hadn't seen the appeal of the bed. The pillow could get to first base in a second – the bed would have me climbing into the covers in a heartbeat.

I'm being literal there. Bedtime was best time. Who needed all those hot guys this game was full of? The best hubbie was beddie right here. Not sharing my one true love with any of you fuckers, hot as you all are.

I might have been able to get away with staying in bed all day if I was back home, in the real world. Where it was still summer break and I had no summer classes and nobody in the fucking world could have made me budge from sleeping all day and then all night for good measure because why the fuck not.

Un-fucking-fortunately, I was not in the real world. I was not even in a nice story like Sleeping Beauty that would have let me sleep forever (that lucky ho didn't appreciate what she had and she kicked it away for a pretty face kissing her, and that is my official stance on that stupid princess).

No, I was in a game where I had to fight my ass off in a war, and being princess meant shit.

"Lady Corrin, time to get up!"

"No it fucking ain't," I mumbled, and then winced because I probably shouldn't have sworn.

But damn it, it was the day before Xander and Leo came bearing bad news, and I was miserable at my progress – read: lack thereof – and I just wanted to sleep, because it was the one thing in the world that didn't betray me.

Besides, I slept late yesterday. It turned out that Corrin – the real Corrin – kept diaries in case the curse struck, so that when it did and wiped away her memories, she could look at records and try to refresh them, or at the very least avoid an awkward situation with the few people she interacted with.

My retainers brought them for me so I could try to refresh my memories – and then gave me one of those looks, apologetic and pitying and worried, the one that made me feel guilty because I didn't really deserve that from them, when I didn't seem to recall keeping diaries.

They were a little hard to read, with handwriting that was neater than mine, but in cursive and therefore like one thousand percent more annoying to read. Also, the pages were distorted, and the ink blurred in a lot of parts, like the pages had gotten wet and then dried.

So on top of Gunter's crash course in restoring Corrin's fighting abilities, I also had to try and decipher the real Corrin's diaries so I could act more naturally. And it was hard, not only because making out the words on these were like trying to understand what the doctor scribbled on that tiny piece of paper he called your prescription, but also because Corrin didn't write chronologically, or record dates. The notebooks focused less on when she did something, and more on what others did, like when she was struck with a memory she didn't want to forget, she just flipped open a random page and scribbled it down.

Jakob making her tea. Felicia breaking a plate and knocking Flora off her feet, but both being okay. Crying with Lilith – who was a lower-ranked servant working in the stables but an absolute sweetie, in the short time I got to spend with her – when an old horse finally died. Gunter letting her hold a real sword for the first time.

It was hard, going over records so disorganized, and yet so clearly emotional. Hard, because they weren't mine and I had to pretend they were.

I really should watch my language, because from what I could tell, Corrin sure as hell didn't speak like I did.

Luckily, Felicia – or anyone else, really – couldn't out my slurred words. "C'mon, sleepyhead," she teased, tugging my comforter away from me. "Up! Out of bed!"

I opened one eye. Flora was missing this morning, but otherwise Jakob and Felicia were fussing over me. If the past few days had taught me anything, then Gunter was already geared up and ready to beat my ass up just outside my room.

It said a lot for my habits – both mine and the real Corrin's – that every time I had to wake up, everyone always got together to make sure I'd actually  _get_  up and at it.

Which meant that I couldn't try to charm them into letting me sleep. They all covered each other pretty well and ganged up on me to get me out. And while they were somehow alert and awake at this unholy hour, I was struggling to keep 'in-character' of a princess that had been locked up in a fort for as long as she could remember. Sure, one cursed to be an amnesiac, but a princess nonetheless, and a very sheltered one at that.

Don't swear don't swear don't swear. I know you want to but for fuck's sake, clean up your language. You can do it. I know you can. You do it all the time in front of teachers and people you want to leave a good impression on.

I raised my head. The curtains were already pulled to the side, and the windows had the spectacular view of a dark, dank world.

Like, no sun whatsoever.

"It's still dark outside," I said. And it was. The lack of electricity wasn't what made the room dark. It was because it was still dark outside and why did all my 'retainers' come to wake me up? Did they not know that the day didn't start until two hours after sunrise?

"It may be dark," said Gunter, and I had to hold myself back from flinching. He was an intimidating man – a combination of his scar, age and knighthood – and I am a coward, okay? Don't judge me. Yes, he's outside the bedroom and not in sight but still. "But it is morning, Princess. And you have practice today."

Jakob smiled reassuringly as he prepared my breakfast – a tray of pretty simple wares, because while I was going to get a workout from the start and needed some energy to kick-start the boot camp, I also didn't want to toss my cookies like I did the second morning. Poor Flora and her shoes.

"Your armor is ready, milady," he said and oh my god his voice. His face was already sexy but his voice, man.

Don't judge me. He's a butler with the whole package – the skills, the face, the absolute loyalty, and the voice.

I would have just done what he said – even sold my soul to the highest bidder – until he continued speaking. "I've also, er, taken the liberty of pounding out the dents from last time. Please try it on later, so we can see if it fits like it should."

" _Last_  time?!" What the fuck happened this 'last time' for dents to be made in armor?

At my face, Felicia and Jakob exchanged looks. From the worried, pitying looks that were being thrown at each other, it was clear that they wrongly pinned the reason for my being upset on having forgotten the cause, rather than the horror of being subjected to a beating harsh enough to dent armor.

Not quite, hot stuffs, not quite.

Jakob cleared his throat. "From sparring against your brother," he said gently. "Prince Xander."

Excuse me, exactly what circle of hell did my so-called brother with the perpetual line between his brows put me through? Yes, it's probably for my wellbeing but dents in armor  _what_.

But no, I rationalized as I calmed down. Armor having dents were better than armor being ripped to shreds beyond repair. Arguably, dented armor was good armor because it did its job of protecting the wearer.

And with that newly found sense of calmness came the urge to sleep once more with my one true love.

"Ugh," I said. "Um, I'm not really fully awake yet . . . can I just sneak an extra five minute more?"

Felicia smiled, almost mischievously. "Oh, I can help with that."

How? I wondered as she reached towards me.

Just before her hand made contact with my skin, snowflakes materialized around her fingers, and the air around them dropped drastically in temperature. One second later, fingers as cold as ice were wrapping around my wrist, and the ice was like a stab through my veins.

I screamed. "Ahhh! Cold! Cold cold cold cold  _cold_! I'm awake! Totally awake now!"

Goodbye, soft, sweet feeling of warmth and sleepiness. Goodbye, and may we see each other soon. We will see each other again, this I swear. Don't forget me, my one true love.

Felicia giggled. "That's how we deal with slugabeds in the Ice Tribe!"

Oh right, she and her sister were from the Ice Tribe. That place I got sent to so I could put down their rebellion. For some reason, being sent to put down the rebellion meant that I could recruit Flora, but joining Hoshido – the country that was very against Nohr and therefore more open to the idea of helping the Ice Tribe with their rebellion – meant she killed herself.

Game logic.

If asked to kill them out for rebelling, I might be a lot more open to that idea now because waking someone up with cold fingers was just sadistic. How dare they deal with poor slugabeds like that up there. Barbaric, that was. Inhumane, cruel, vicious people.

But it was probably cold up there and I didn't really like the cold. So maybe not.

Oh, well, back to grinding like a snail in slow motion.

* * *

Finally, it was the day announced by the mission screen. D-day. The day of revelations and the apocalypse and the trial.

Come on, it was the first chapter in the fucking game. Could they not make this easier for a poor player who hadn't intended on being pulled in?

Jakob and Gunter made sure to alert the royals of my, er, recent memory hiccup before I actually got to see them in person, so they wouldn't be surprised or disappointed or accidentally heartbroken or end up hurting me. Through not-so-subtle questioning that I saw right through over the course of few days – and in the case of Gunter, just bluntly asking what I remembered – my retainers had learned that I remembered surprisingly little. As in, I knew their names and some things about them, but little else. Nothing about the time spent together, or what memories.

And sure that sounded like some pretty suspicious amnesia and I sweated while lying to their faces about it, but apparently that was how this weird curse struck, because while they all made some worried faces, they all just accepted it at face value.

Eh. What did I know about amnesia, anyways?

So the official diagnosis was: the curse had struck badly when no one had expected it, and now Corrin remembered very little. As in, the names and faces of those around her, and her affection for them, but very little else otherwise.

I never thought I would say this, but thank goodness I was cursed.

Because of their prior knowledge, Leo and Xander approached slowly and hesitantly, like I was a deer they were trying to take a photo of – like I might bolt for the cover of the woods any second now. They tried to school their features into something calm and controlled, but their eyes were boring holes into my face, seeking out any signs of recognition or confusion I might show.

Luckily for them and for me, I remembered the faces and names of my 'family'. They were important characters, and they kept popping up – either as my strongest allies with good cutscenes and lots of portraits and dialogue, or as enemies with just as good but also ominous and threatening, if not downright heartbreaking cutscenes.

Except Elise. Never Elise.

And she died.

Derp.

But going back on track. There was a metric shit ton of characters with actual faces and names in this game, some of whom wouldn't make the wise decision of siding with me, but I remembered the important people.

Sort of. Were villains important? They probably were, and unlike nice guys wouldn't be polite and forgive me for not knowing their names.

Shit.

Well, the point was, I knew these two, even if they were no longer models or portraits.

"Xander!" I waved at two of the very important characters in the game – terrifying enemies, but great allies, they were, and good-looking too. "Leo! You're here!"

The relief washing over both of them was near-tangible – aw, man, they really loved 'Corrin', I could finally sort of see why they were willing to go to war over getting her or him back – and smiling genuinely now, they made their way over to me, steps lighter than before.

And damn. Garon was an evil son of a bitch (sorry, adoptive Granma I never knew and never will know, and let's keep it that way shall we), but he clearly had some  _sweet_  genes in his dragon's blood. Because the portraits of these guys had been great, but seeing them for real was absolutely amazing.

Xander was sharp-featured, and his every handsome stern hair just  _oozed_  charisma. This was the face of a badass king. There was a crease between his brows, but when he smiled it smoothed out so that he didn't look so stern – he almost looked fatherly. The kind that you read about in novels, the ones that look super strict but are actually cinnamon rolls to their children, but still raise them properly with the right amount of discipline so they don't end up depraved or spoiled.

Maybe that made him sound too much like a dad, because if every dad looked like that, wow, a whole lot of 'daddy' kinks might start popping up. Kingly, majestic, charismatic face it is. I kind of just wanted to bow down to him.

Leo, on the other hand, was a pretty boy. A  _very_  pretty boy. Like, oh my goodness he was a 'face like a K-pop boy group' kind of pretty boy, with an elegant, angelic face that should have made artists seizure with inspiration and vomit out works of art to be considered classics and be labelled priceless. Even when worried and keeping a poker face, his features were 10/10 easily. No wonder his son could get away with looking prettier than any of the children – his dad had some seriously sweet genes.

It wasn't to say that Leo looked like the sweet type. Far from it. If Xander was the picture of a fierce warrior, a hero called by the heavens to stand on the path of fate and fight as a king and a leader, Leo was more of something along the lines of an angel of death. Beautiful but with the dangerous edge bleeding through and adding its own charm to the overall effect, like silk hiding steel.

So, in other words, kind of a high-class pretty bad boy?

Wait, that made him sound like a male escort. Fuck my descriptive abilities, and fuck everything I just said.

I just never thought a guy could look  _that_  pretty, and yet still look like a dude for real. I thought that was only possible in anime and video games, and maybe pop stars on television.

Except this  _was_  a video game, damn it, and pretty didn't do shit to keeping someone from dying.

Well, at least there was a super pretty boy. Despite the differences in their facial types, I could see they were related. It was the same sharp and clear eyes, the same hair, the same way they carried themselves, like they were better than everyone, but not in a tryhard way, and not like they were being snobby. Their superiority was just a natural part of them, like the fact that the sky was blue and snow was cold and Elise was the best.

Both of them weren't wearing the game's default clothes, which took me off-guard for a little before I realized that, derp, of course they would have casual clothes, and of course they wouldn't go around in armor twenty-four-seven, especially when they weren't coming to fight to the death.

I knew shit about fashion in history, but the tight pants – not tight enough to be hose, but tight enough – and loose shirt with cravats were  _nice_.

Leo huffed out a light sigh of relief and reached out to hug me, and I was a little surprised to find he was taller than I was. Not tower-over-me tall, but definitely tall enough that there would be no mistaking the differences in our heights.

Corrin, according to Jakob, was supposed to be seventeen, soon to be eighteen (which was  _not_  my real age, but hey, the younger the better, right?). Leo was the younger brother of Nohr, which meant he had to be at most sixteen.

This sixteen-year-old at most was already in the battlefield, making a name for himself amongst allies and foe alike as he swept lives up with his magic like he was sweeping up some dust.

It occurred to me that Fire Emblem was a strategy game, with perma-death. Strategy, as in war strategy. Death, as in they were dying on battlefields fighting a war.

Despite my, er, rough mouth and slightly tomboyish ways, I wasn't all that fond of fighting or war or conflict or anything along those lines. My parents always said my brother and I were easy kids to raise, because we didn't fight like other siblings did. Truth was we just saw no reason to fight, and if there was a chance for conflict both of us solved and dropped it the moment we saw it. Maintaining peace came easy to us.

And now I was alone, in the middle of strangers I knew only by proxy, in a cruel world that sent children out into battlefields to fight and make a name for themselves because they had the talent to kill people.

No, not the talent to kill people. They had  _talent_ , and it could be directed at killing people efficiently, so they were made to by those who were supposed to protect them. That was why.

I held on a little tighter, and Leo returned it before letting me go and stepping back to allow Xander his turn of hugging me. Unlike Leo, Xander was tall as a tree. Not one of those puny little things that people liked to grow so they could say they had tiny trees older than their grandma – abusive assholes, twisting poor trees to be midgets – but an actual fucking tree. He lifted me off my feet easily, making me squeal, and then set me down with a fond smile.

"Little Princess," Xander said. "I've heard that you were training hard."

Yeah, because I could die any second.

I just laughed nervously. "Can't let you down, right?"

Shit did that sound too sickly-sweet? Blame it on the curse, Xander. Blame it on the curse, Leo. Blame my out-of-character acting on the motherfucking curse.

"That's our sister for you," Leo said fondly, and sweet dragons thank y'all for your kindness.

I sighed. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to beat you, though," I said, trying to channel every sad experience I had ever had. My goldfish dying because my brother didn't feed it while I was at camp. My other goldfish dying because my brother didn't feed it while I was at camp the next year. My brother getting hurt – wait, no, that was because he did something stupid and it's funny now that I think about it, take that away. Focus on my murdered goldfish.

Xander clapped one hand on my shoulder. He had large hands that felt strong even through the clothes, but it didn't hurt. Considerate, kind older bro looking after me can I just say that blood-relations or not you are great. Nohr for the win, bitches.

"No need to worry," he said reassuringly. "Gunter tells me that you've made great progress."

Even after the recent return of the curse, went unheard and unsaid, but I could see it in his face. For a guy who looked born to be a king and lead his people into victory and peace, he wasn't the best at keeping a poker face, was he.

Leo was better at it than Xander. "I'm sure you've gotten better since last time."

By last time, pretty boy, I assume that you mean the time when Xander put so many dents in my armor it took  _Jakob_ , Mr. Most-Capable-Butler-In-Nohr-Till-His-Son-Came-Around Jakob until yesterday morning to return it back into original form.

* * *

The sounds of swords clanging against each other rang in the walled court of the castle's training yard, as the two combatants swung their weapons at each other. Though made from bronze, the blades were still very real, and capable of great damage, if not death.

Normally, such a scene would have had me glued to prime seats, popcorn in hand. In this world, I even had a Butler that got me everything I wanted, and had the mad snack and serving me skills to back it up and make it worth it. It would have been  _great_.

Except, you know, I was one of the fighters, with one of the real blades making those clanging sounds in my hand. And I was getting creamed by the foe, who happened to be the strongest knight in Nohr, the wielder of the divine blade Siegfried, and also Nohr's  _fucking crown prince_.

You sure they picked their heir apparent to the throne by birth? Because it looks like they pick by strength and skill in swordplay.

"You won't beat the strongest knight in Nohr by sleeping all day, Corrin," Leo called from the sidelines, watching the two of us fight with a hawk's eye. Probably picking out flaws in our – and by our, I mean 'my' – techniques, ready to give us – and again, let's replace that with 'me' – an earful on how to improve.

Pretty boy or not Leo was  _definitely_  a younger brother. I bit back a 'shut-up' in response to his teasing and exhaled loudly because my lungs were beginning to get mad at me for stressing them.

Why were they stressed? Because they weren't use to being this pushed.

Oh, but Corrin was in good shape before you came into her body and hijacked it right on the turn of events that would lead to a shitstorm any three ways, so what's the issue?

Why, you ask? I'll tell you why. It's because this was one motherfucking tough opponent I was up against. See? Even the younger bro said it – Xander was the strongest knight in Nohr.

Xander raised one eyebrow. "Giving up so soon, Corrin? I expect more of you! Pick up your sword and try again – you are a princess of Nohr!"

About that, Nohrian older bro, I'm actually not. But that's a major spoiler and I as Corrin is  _not_  supposed to know that so I'll just keep my mouth shut for now.

Instead, I decided to try and convince him to not beat the crap out of me. "But this is just training!"

Even though it didn't feel like it. When Xander just slipped on some padded shirt and a few leg guards for 'protective gear', I felt insulted – especially because Jakob and the others made me dress in armor. Interestingly enough, not the default armor the game character wore, but the one the Nohr Noble wore – the black one, minus the fan service slits revealing thighs and boobs. Also a proper cape. Shame, because the tattered cloak was pretty cool, but I guess it made sense. Nohr was poor, but not  _that_  poor.

Or maybe it was because we were still pretending I was related to the Nohrian royal family, and appearances still mattered.

He gave me a stern look. "No – this is experience. We learn how to fight so we can protect ourselves and our loved ones. It is never 'just' training."

Days of Spartan training under Gunter's tough love and my body having this unnatural yet apparently natural gift in swordplay was  _not_  enough to hold up against the greatest knight in Nohr. At least he wasn't riding a horse while sparring with me. At least he wasn't using his fancy sword, the one that had killed Elise by accident.

Shudder.

But even without cool dark fire sword and horse, I stood no chance against Xander. There would have to be a next time, because in my current state, I had no way of defeating him.

There was no choice. I decided I'd throw the match.

Because sure, Garon wouldn't be happy that the freeloader wasn't able to come out of the fortress to work for once, but he wouldn't kill me now, would he? And anything that didn't make him happy sounded good to me, because he was a dick and he deserved an indirect 'fuck you'. Besides, if I didn't go now, then through the butterfly effect the entire game's tragedies might be avoided!

None of the game's shitty shenanigans had to happen for real.

The more I thought about it, the better this idea seemed. I'd build up my strength, and experience, and pass the next time the test came around.

Yes, this sounded good. I can't believe I didn't come up with this genius plan before.

Two seconds after I had come up with the clever idea and was patting myself on my back for that, a screen popped up in front of my eyes, like the same screen that had welcomed me into the world of Fire Emblem: Fates.

[Mission: Defeat Xander!

Xander, High Prince of Nohr, has been training you in combat whenever he could find the time to do so in his busy schedule. Your siblings in Nohr have been lobbying to their father, King Garon of Nohr, on your behalf so that you may leave the Northern Fortress like you have always wished to do. He has agreed, but on the condition that you are able to pull your own weight while in battle. To demonstrate you are capable of meeting his expectations, you must defeat Xander in a spar.

Reward: EXP; permission to leave the Northern Fortress and enter Windmire, Capital of Nohr, where Castle Krackenberg is.

Failure: Death.]

Did I read that last part wrong? No, no, that said 'death' right there. Not something like 'Darth', for a Darth Vader figure to come by saying memorable lines like 'I am your father', or some other similar word. 'Death'.

Say fucking what now.

I silently screamed at that for a few seconds, because um,  _what_.

Was this because of Lunatic mode? Was this because it was Classic? Was it just because my bane was Unlucky? Was it the unholy trinity of all three combined that had the game threatening to sentence me to death if I didn't win this sparring match?! Fuck fuck fuck fuck  _fuck_.

How the fuck does winning a spar prove anything, anyways? Nothing beats numbers, man. Or a zombie. I could be the most kickass swordsman out there, and let's face it, if I was facing an army on my own I was going to go down, skills be damned. Especially if that army was made up of never-dying zombies. That's how Ryoma went down in Conquest. All his fancy footwork and skills with the special sword and the room with the healing tiles stretched across the whole floor helped him with shit when faced with the might of a character that kept getting back up from their ashes like a phoenix.

And it wasn't like the outside world was too safe a place either. Death down this path, death down the other path. Hard place and a rock.

Fuuuuuck – of all the games to fall into I had to come into  _this one_.

"Are you alright?" Leo asked, drawing my attention from the mission statement with expectations that needed to be lowered a lot, pronto.

Xander mistook my pale face, evacuated of blood all of a sudden, as a response to his words.

"I know it sounds scary," he said, a lot gentler than the forceful charisma-machine he'd been before the stupid mission screen popped up. "But sometimes, we're forced to make difficult choices, or find ourselves in situations that aren't kind to us. And in that time, it's better to be over-prepared than under-prepared."

He hesitated before he gave a small, slightly awkward but so sweet smile. "I would be more reassured if you were in possession of skills that you never got a chance to use than find yourself in trouble without."

Right there and then it was as if Cupid had fired several rounds of the 'fangirl' arrow into my heart. With a machine gun that fired arrows at the rate of, like, a thousand rounds per second. I don't care if that's not an actual gun, it felt like it.

Shit. Okay, wow. Definitely not choosing Birthright if the time to choose comes despite my best efforts to keep that from happening anytime soon. No way am I letting  _you_  die, Big Bro. This dark world needs you. Just listen to Elise, please. She knows the best way. She  _is_  the best way.

His face turned . . . okay not  _hard_ , but less gentle. Like, more stern maybe. Yeah, that sounded a little more fitting. "But if you cannot defeat me today, Corrin," he said, getting serious once more. "Then you may not leave the Northern Fortress. Ever."

"What?!"

"That's  _insane_!" I began to see just how 'Death' was the penalty for losing. I'd be locked up in this shitty place till I died, and then who knew what would happen. Probably go mad and begin painting the walls with my own poop, if I wasn't killed off quietly.

Shudder.

Xander and Leo's faces dropped simultaneously like very handsome rocks, and I remembered how weird Garon had been before the whole reveal of him being possessed by something that made him a goo monster. They probably noticed that around now, but chalked it up to mental illness.

And of course, they wouldn't go around outright saying Garon was insane, so me saying that was probably like dumping salt water into an open wound for them.

Derp, sorry guys. I probably should have been more sensitive.

Except my life is on the line here and the king is not your daddy anymore, and he wants to kill me in a rather roundabout way, so never mind, fuck  _that_. You could very well say that he is insane. Rip the band aid off and everything. Mental illness is not something to be ashamed of. Stop adding to the stigma. Start embracing the people.

But don't do that to your daddy. Mental illness isn't the problem with him. Just with other people. So hugs and support won't do shit.

Xander recovered fairly quickly, as expected of the High Prince next in line. "Motivated, are we? Then use that fire to best me in battle, little Princess. Defeat me if you would see the outside world, beyond the view from your window. Prove that all the time I've devoted to training you has not been in vain!"

Shit, okay, he was  _not_  my usual type of fictional character to fall for but wow this guy was just so awesome. Like, Liam Neeson level of awesome. Except younger and hotter, but you get my drift, yes?

Newly invigorated, I readjusted my grip on my sword and charged at him again. He returned the blows with a slight smile on his face.

Ten minutes later, though, I was seriously pooped and giving more thought to the fate of painting the walls of this fortress with my own poop, because would a life of doing nothing but staying in one place – no need to work or compete in the shitty economy – be all that bad? For all I knew death meant I could exit the game.

Except, you know, I still didn't want to die. But I might not have a choice in the matter.

Fuck fuck fuck stuck between a rock and a hard place, and about to get  _rekt_.

Xander eyed me worriedly, with furrowed brows. I wanted to tell him to stop frowning and fast-forwarding the aging of that precious face, but that would just be too weird. I saw why Gunter was not a unit I used in my Conquest playthrough, because Xander was superior to Gunter in every way except age.

At least in training sessions, I could try to outrun Gunter and poop the old man out and partially succeed. It was impossible to try that with Xander, this tall, defensive bro.

Fuck.

At least I was still faster than he was. Ah, yes, what my luck had been sacrificed for. My – Boon, was it? Something like that. Boon. My speed wasn't half-bad, and I had just spent seven days in Nohrian Sparta working on using it to my advantage. Xander didn't match me in speed, and sure, I knew he was going easy on me, but I was faster.

Except I was losing that edge fast due to growing fatigue, which wasn't good. I had to finish this fast.

Putting all my basketball experiences behind me, I feinted once, twice, and then on the third time I struck. Lady Luck, don't leave me now!

The result?

The bitch left me like a gold digger leaving a bankrupt sugar daddy who was suddenly not so sweet.

Not only did Xander block my strike, but the one after that, and the one I tried after that as well. He then began to push me back, forcing me to go defensive.

"Is that all you've got?!"

"No!" But it's pretty damn close. The HP bar on my status screen is telling me that my health is down by half. At least he wasn't taking it out in huge chunks.

I charged again, and he blocked – but this time I tried to kick him, aiming directly at his crotch. Eyes widening in surprise, he backed off, and I changed the direction of my sword –

And he swung his sword with both hands, met my sword head-on, and the impact was so strong it not only got my sword falling from my hands, ringing with numb pain, but also spun me half around and tripping over my own feet to fall to the ground.

Dazed and hurting, I blinked and tried to not fall over while I was on my knees and butt. "Whoa," I mumbled.

"Are you alright?" Xander asked, concerned, which was nice but bro, you were the one who knocked me down, you know that right? And not just knocked me down literally, onto the ground, but also down to 8 HP out of 19, which is starting to look really dangerous right about now.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, trying to stand – only to wince, because  _ow_. Down to 8 HP means that it hurts bad.

Don't be so fucking realistic, game. This part isn't appreciated. At all.

"That was a clever try," Xander said. "Good enough to deserve this."

He cut his arm on the blade of his sword and I nearly swore, because what the fuck, don't self-harm in front of your younger sister.

The blood dripped from the wound, and then fell to the ground. The pressure of the air dropped, like that feeling I got when on a plane, and a distant thrumming sound boomed like a faraway trumpet from the skies.

And where Xander's blood had fallen, the ground shone lightly with a blue, clean light.

"Dragon Vein?" I guessed, as an alert popped up in my status screen telling me that Xander had activated one. I hadn't expected for actual blood to be needed for activation, but that had to be a Dragon Vein. Nothing else from the game would have made sense.

Shit, did I have to cut myself if I wanted to use Dragon Veins? Because I distinctly remember those being around in a lot of maps, and my brother telling me they could help change the game strategy.

I don't like seeing my own blood. I don't like making myself bleed, either, so fuck.

"Yes. You should have been able to sense it, with the blood of dragons in your own veins. Did you?"

I shook my head.

"Step in it," Xander instructed. "Let the light refresh you."

I did as he said, and read the explanation that popped up in the status screen.

[Healing Zone

Heals 50% of HP per half a minute for those standing in light. Rounded down.]

I guess we weren't going by turns, then.

I stood in the light, catching my breath. The light felt odd, like there was something crawling through my skin and into my bones. But not in a flesh-eating bug kind of way, more like a chill, face pack kind of way that was soothing and nice and wow, the pain was actually fading away, leaving a nice, relaxed sensation behind.

I had a minute to fully recharge my health – assuming that Xander would let me catch my breath that long. He probably would because he was a nice guy and all, but even so, I couldn't drag this too long.

C'mon, think. I know games and strategy weren't my thing but I had to channel my inner twin. How would my brother do this?

Analyze the opponent. He always liked to say that every action had a reason as well as a consequence. Nothing was done for 'no reason' – even doing nothing was because it had meaning.

Xander had reacted stronger than just simply blocking because he had felt a little threatened. Why? Because I tried to go for a crotch shot. Dirty and sneaky, sure, but at the same time threatening and probably not something he expected from 'Corrin'. Having used it once, he would probably see it coming if I tried it again.

Which meant that I had to find a different dirty tactic, using everything I had and then some more.

So, rather literally –

Come at me bro.

Let's turn the analyzing eye onto me. What did I have? Speed, a natural gift for swordplay in my new body, a bro that loved me but wouldn't go any easier on me than he already was, and a healing tile he opened up for me on the ground, which healed pretty nicely but I had my pride, I couldn't camp out on it forever.

And all my time watching action movies, as well as the ground, which was covered in smoothed dirt.

So I rolled on the ground, frantically scraped up dirt as discreetly as I could with a sweep of my left hand, and then got back up. Gripping my sword tighter with my right hand, I charged at Xander –

And then threw dirt into his handsome albeit stern face.

A little dirt wasn't enough to beat the strongest knight in Nohr all by itself, but it was enough to earn me a spare second, which I took and used to the fullest. I charged to his left side, where he wasn't holding the sword, right after I kicked his right knee and fell to my own knees just as Xander swung the blade towards me, nearly stumbling and blinking from the kick and dust, respectively. The sword flew just over my head, and barely missed my head.

Dude, the fuck.

Ignoring that near-brush with death, I swung as hard as I could –

And smacked Xander behind his thighs with the flat of my sword.

Hey, at least it wasn't the ass. He had a great ass. Not that I was looking too closely and outright checking it out. Because, you know, at this point I'm supposed to believe he's my older brother and that would be creepy.

But peripheral vision is a thing and damn, 10/10,  _solid_.

Leo choked, and Xander whirled around to look down at me incredulously when I lifted the sword and rested the tip against his chest. I didn't put enough pressure on it to stab him – heck, he was wearing protective gear, after all, so that would need a lot more pressure needed than  _this_  – but enough for him to feel my blade and know that I could.

I always wanted to say this to someone. And now I had a chance to.

"Yield," I said, keeping my face as serious and my voice as regal as I could. Sure, I was still kneeling, and I felt like a kid 'threatening' her dad with a toy sword more than a warrior on equal footing.

But, if you thought about my skill level versus his, that was actually pretty accurate.

Damn, were my eyes sweating? No, wait, those were tears. Oh good, they felt pretty fucking appropriate for the moment right now.

[Mission complete!

Level up!

LV 2.

HP increased by 1.

Skill increased by 1.

Spd increased by 1.

Def increased by 1.

Res increased by 1.

HP: 20 Str: 7 Mag: 4 Skill: 8 Spd: 9 Lck: 3 Def: 7 Res: 3 Mov: 5]

Even when going easy on me, it looked like Xander was a foe strong enough to give me lots of experience points. Playing both Birthright and Conquest taught me that one could never get enough experience points to level up twice at a time, so getting one level up was good enough.

One small step for Corrin . . . still one small step for Corrin.

Shit.

Honestly, if this was Pokémon, I would have gotten a shit-ton of points for beating a super-powered monster straight at fucking level one, and jumped more than a few levels easily.

Maybe I could convince him to spar with me on the way or something? Grind while I can and all.

"Fighting dirty," Xander said, rubbing the back of his thigh that had been smacked with the part of the sword closer to the handle, and I snickered at the pun. Get it? Fighting dirty? Because I threw dirt in his eyes . . . oh gods I'm so pathetic and sad and stuck in a fucking game someone call for help and get me out of here now. Right now.

Now.

My mental plea, desperate as it was, didn't work. Pity. And by pity I mean motherfucking assholes, whoever you are, I had one wish, and you had one job.  _One_.

"Not a bad tactic . . . although I hope you won't rely on tricks through all your battles. Continue to work on your mastery of the sword."

Bro I wish.

"Still, I'm glad you're getting stronger every day."

"Thanks, Xander." I'm now at a whopping Level 2. Amazing, the progress I've made. I could kill dragons with my bare hands. "I couldn't have done it without your, uh, tough love."

But Xander shook his head. "I disagree. I believe you have natural talent."

"You're kidding."

He ignored my interruption, smooth as a mink coat on a buttered rapper calling himself a pimp. "Someday, you could be the greatest warrior in all of Nohr."

"Okay, now you're just teasing me." Bro there is no fucking way. Stop it.

He ignored my pleas. "You know-" he began before cutting himself off. Right, they think I have a curse that erases my memories. 'I' wouldn't know. "I never joke about serious matters," he said firmly instead, moving on to make it less awkward for everyone around. "I mean what I say."

I really wished he would stop there. But he just kept talking and making me feel super uncomfortable with the undeserved praise. Uncomfortable because it felt good being told I was super special, even though I totally knew I didn't deserve it. Ego-stroking was always so nice.

"You could be the one to bring light to our kingdom so long shrouded in darkness."

"Xander . . ."

Had my brother – my real one, the one that introduced me to this damn game – been the one who said that to me, I would have kicked him in his calf. Lightly, but still kicked him, because that would have sounded cheesy as fuck when he said it.

But when Xander said it, it sounded goddamn  _inspiring_. I had the urge to light myself up with Christmas lights and parade in dark places like a madwoman just to bring his words to life. Sure, he didn't mean them literally. Maybe he didn't really mean them at all. But he sounded like he was so sincere and who was I kidding he totally meant that because despite his stern face he was a softie at heart.

Leo huffed lightly, breaking the spell of the warm, glowy feeling that undeserved praise brought me. "Typical. You do know that true strength is more than simple swordplay, right?"

Oh buddy did I know it. I love magic. Special attackers. Mages. Whatever the equivalent was in canon.

Think about it. Setting fire to things with a snap of one's fingers. Waving a hand and letting lightning loose. Ripping open space and shooting light with some mumbled words. Give me that over a sword any day. Let me just light them up from afar so I didn't have to actually fight in close combat.

Xander chuckled. "Calm yourself, little brother. You really are competitive to a fault. You're a talented mage with formidable magical abilities in your own right – as I've always said."

The dawn light was beginning to break, and the golden hair of my 'brothers' were lighting up.

As darkness began to ebb away, I saw something I'd forgotten about until now.

"Hmm," Leo said, clearly appeased even as he tried to keep his words gruff. It didn't work, partly because of his seriously pretty face and partly because . . . "Well, just remember that pointy metal sticks are not the only path to power."

"Got it." I said. Machine guns, airplanes and tanks were yet to come, but they weren't here to break the war scene and be amazing in forging a path to power. "Oh, and Leo . . ."

"Yes?"

I smiled. "Your collar is inside out."

It had been cute in the video game. It was cuter seeing it in real life.

"What?!" Leo's gloved hands flew to his neck to yank at the collar of his cape, and his face exploded into red when he realized it was true.

"It would appear," Xander said teasingly, "someone got dressed while still half-asleep."

"Ugh!" Leo, face red as a tomato, rushed to fix his mistake. In his hurry, he nearly strangled himself.

"You're still lovable, Leo." Xander said.

"Totally!" I added on wholeheartedly. Adorable.

"Hrrgh," was the reply we got. That might have been him still strangling himself.

The morning sun – pale, compared to what I was used to from outside the video game, but pretty bright for Nohr according to Xander and Leo – lit the start of my first step to getting out of this castle.

If you can't avoid it, enjoy it.


	4. Chapter One - Nohr: In the Dark

Now that the 'fight to leave the castle' part of the game was over, I needed to get ready to leave. Except I lived in like the northern boonies of this big-ass country, and the capital was a long way off. And since there were no planes or cars or proper asphalt roads around for another century or something at the very least, we had to travel over to the castle in Windmire for me to meet the fake Big Bad.

My fake brother dudes, I made my talent 'dragon' against the argument of my real brother dude. I know you have these things called 'wyverns' in this world. I know they can carry a person wearing armor, five huge-ass weapons, and depending on who gets to be in Pair-Up with them, another person and a horse, both wearing armor far heavier than the one the original rider wears. Let's travel by wyvern. That sounds fun.

Not that I said that out loud. I was trying to act like Corrin. Who knew what they'd do if I told them I wasn't actually their sister? I had the curse thing going for me, anyways – I didn't even need to make up an excuse about amnesia.

Where was I? Oh, right, heading to Windmire. Yeah, when you're travelling, you need to do this thing called 'packing'. Corrin, not too surprisingly, had very little material possessions that she held dearly. Like, nada.

From what I gathered, she spent most of her time practicing swordplay and reading books her siblings sent her. That, and writing journals in case the curse struck again, in the hopes that recording her thoughts and her memories might serve as a trigger to bring them back.

According to all of them, it never worked, but the real Corrin never gave up on her attempts, which meant I couldn't ditch it now without looking too suspicious. Damn it.

I couldn't take all the journals – there were like twenty, and it wasn't like one of those cute diaries that are just bigger than your hand, but more like fucking leather-bound albums, the industrial sized ones you get for a wedding or your child's first five years of life as a helpless living being at the mercy of their parents. Each one was as heavy and bulky as a high school math textbook.

No fucking way I'm taking all these along with me. And yet, everyone – the term 'everyone' being Gunter, Jakob, Flora, Felicia and my fake siblings – expected for me to take them, so I compromised by taking the latest one. If I was working with memory loss, might as well as be up to date on the latest news, because dragon gods forbid a cursed amnesiac forget sensitive issues.

No one argued. Probably figuring I could have my things sent for me, or that I could come back to take them another time.

Ha  _ha ha ha ha ha ha_  ha. Ha.  _Ha_.

I was also given permission to have a retainer. I was super confused about that – wasn't everyone in the Northern Fortress my retainer?

Apparently not. They were, like me, tied to the castle. Except Gunter, who sort of worked as my guardian on behalf of King Garon, and also had the job of being a knight of Nohr and all. So I didn't have like a bajillion retainers, is what I was being told, which was a disappointment, but on the bright side, now that I had passed the test, I could start collecting them like trading cards.

So now I could finally get my first official retainer.

My immediate choice – hot, talented silver-haired butler almost obsessively devoted to me – would be obvious, but due to me still feeling  _super_  guilty about forgetting Flora's name, I considered taking her along instead.

And then, since  _that_  just robbed her of her choice which was bad in its own way, I decided to ask for volunteers. "Any volunteers?"

Jakob and Felicia immediately raised their hands. Flora followed suit, less enthusiastic.

"Um . . ." Do I go with Jakob, like the game, or do I try to make it up to Flora?

I didn't have to make a choice here. Jakob made it for me.

"Lady Corrin, if I may?"

"Yeah?" Feeling sorry for Flora was feeling sorry, but this was a super-hot face talking to me. I'd listen to him recite the terms of agreements to Groupon at me as long as I could keep looking at his face.

He bowed slightly, hand pressed over his chest, and I bit back a squeal. "I believe I would be most suitable to follow as your retainer," he said. "While Flora excels at her duties as a Maid, her fighting abilities are less on par with Felicia's, and as for Felicia, taking her along is a recipe for disaster."

Jakob said all those rude things with a smiling face, and normally when someone was being a jerk, I'd get angry. Would I do something? Maybe, maybe not, but I would definitely get angry at the jerk in question.

But damn, that  _face_.

The final ingredient to all looks – a super-hot face.

Felicia made a face like she was going to cry, and Flora bit her lip. Their reactions snapped me out of the daze. "Jakob," I said warningly. I didn't like bullies, good-looking or not.

He bowed again. Damn, it was still hot. Lookism was definitely a thing. "My apologies, milady. I speak only on behalf of your best interests."

"Jakob is right, milady," Flora said with a soft smile. And shit, didn't  _that_  just trigger more guilt in me. "He would be the best choice."

After a pinch in the side and a muffled squeal of pain from her sister, Felicia nodded enthusiastically. "We'll be sure to hold down the fort!" she shouted, fists clenched.

I'm not coming back here, but thank you for your enthusiasm, soldier. "Thanks, guys," I said.

* * *

Once a few changes of clothes, the latest in 'Corrin's' writings before I got here, and food was packed, we were ready to go. Felicia and Flora did my hair for the last time, with Felicia sniffling as they did. Not that we did anything fancy. They just brushed my hair – a really pale, not white but also not quite blond color, more like beige – and braided it tightly before placing my headband on my head. I rubbed the metal pin on it – it was apparently one of Corrin's few possessions, and something precious to her, Felicia told me.

And then we were ready to go. 'We', being Gunter, Xander, Leo, Jakob, some soldiers and one of Xander's retainers – the gray-haired dancer, whose name I couldn't remember right now – and me. Oh, and Lilith.

I remembered Lilith. Hard not to remember a girl that turns into a dragon-fish carrying some golden ball who literally appears out of nowhere to die in your stead. Didn't understand it at the time and ranted about it to my brother, but still.

She was pretending to be a regular ol' stable girl, tagging along with us. I wondered about that – did stable girls usually tag along? – but it turns out that she was kind of like an assistant to Gunter. Jakob used to be that, but he graduated to Butler, and Gunter needed someone to help with the horses and stuff, so Lilith to the rescue!

Or something like that. It turns out she was something of a wonder with people who knew her, because she had this incredible talent with animals, and was a lot stronger than she looked.

Like, I am saying, lift two saddlebags with each hand strong. Jesus.

"I swear you're the strongest in the army, Lilith," I said as a way of greeting, once she was done strapping the bags onto the horses. Was it my imagination, or did it look like the horses were having a harder time with the weight than the young woman?

The girl that was actually a goldfish-like dragon in disguise smiled. We hadn't had a chance to speak since I 'beat' Xander in a 'fair fight'.

Ha. Ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Ha. Literally anyone who knew Xander and I would think it wasn't a fair fight. He was going so easy on me he might as well have been fighting me with a spoon to spoon-feed me the victory. The spoon could not have been bigger.

On his part, anyways. On my part it was still a struggle, but imagine if he was going all 'nah my baby sis needs to know the cruelties of life before even taking step in the outside world' and decided to be a hard-ass. Guess even Lunatic mode wasn't that mean.

"I hear you can finally leave the fortress. You must be very happy, Lady Corrin."

"I am!" I agreed. I would not die! In your face you fucking system! Yay, me!

. . . except that was what the system wanted. Boo, me.

She smiled at me, happy on my behalf, but also sad. Like – like a mom, watching her kid go off to first grade on their own for the first time. Less nervous and more resigned, but along that line of emotion for sure.

In a way, I understood why – Corrin was loved by everyone here, and they were probably expecting to see her lose her innocence in the war-torn, suffering-filled outside world.

It meant more for me, though, because I knew what was coming was a lot worse than what they were expecting to see.

Boo, me.

Struck by impulse, I hugged the dragon girl that had died in both Birthright and Conquest to save me. I still didn't understand  _why_  she had to die – couldn't she have just pulled me back into the castle, or tackled me down by headbutting my stomach, or something other than getting in the way of the attack? Was the gratuitous death really necessary?

Unnecessary and badly written in my opinion or not, she had still died for my character in-game, and that was a lot of affection.

I wasn't the person it was directed to, but I appreciated the sentiment, knowing it would be directed at me as long as I wore this body and bore this name. The least I could do was maintain it until everything was set right, and make sure Lilith didn't get the bad ending.

And, in worst case scenario, I had someone willing to dive in front of me to take a lethal hit. Best to keep in the good graces of people like that. They didn't come often.

"Thank you, Lilith," I said. "For everything."

"Oh!" Lilith squirmed in my arms. "Um, you're welcome? Thank you? Lady Corrin," she said when I didn't let go. She was very huggable. Sometimes there are people that just feel right to hug. You may have initiated the hug, but just holding them in your arms made everything in the world feel better even though the world was a crapsack thing to live in. "You know I'm going with you, right?"

"I know."

Lilith stopped struggling, shrugged, and leaned into the hug some more. Nice.

* * *

I didn't really remember how the tutorial went. What I remembered was limited to 'I get spoon-fed on how to fight (and still suck at it, getting everyone killed if not for Phoenix mode), game-mom is met and dies very soon after, and then I make a choice and everything is decided on my  _one_  choice'.

Ah, the burden of a protagonist.

I was fairly sure, though, that the tutorial didn't involve a several day trip via horses. Can you imagine what a boring game that would have been? Like, what? I didn't pay money to see people lazing around on the ground. I didn't pay at all, but my brother did, and honestly he treats my money like his most of the time so I say it counts.

It was less boring for me on the trip, because I got to ride a horse. Like most people who didn't have horses in their nonexistent big-as-fuck stables-included backyards, my horse riding experience was limited to summer camps with irritated ponies and patiently smiling university students who wanted nothing more than to ditch the whiny little shits they were babysitting and get wasted.

But like my experience with the art of swordplay, my current body had some wondrous memories, so I stopped thinking and just let it move on its own.

Body memory kept me from falling off the horse, though it didn't do much to stop my butt from hurting. Like, wow, I thought my secondhand car that I shared with my brother was a bad ride, but bumpy horse rides made you appreciate the miracle that was standardized infrastructure and smooth-as-fuck running rubber tires. Holy shit.

Pain aside, though, it was super fun. The air was a lot cleaner than what I was used to, which I assume came from the lack of exhaust. I could catch the smell of manure every now and then, but otherwise it was like I had never breathed air before this, and it was just so fresh.

And the stars. Holy shit I did not want to sleep because there were so many fucking stars in the sky.

I – as in real me, in the real world – lived in a suburban area in the middle of nowhere and I saw maybe a handful of stars on clear nights. Here it was go outside and see fucking pinpoints of blazing light in the dark night sky everywhere. Xander had to threaten to lock me up in a room without windows to make me go to sleep, and for once Jakob was all for the idea of not listening to my orders, because it meant I'd get some actual sleep.

Which, you know, I needed. Because dozing on a horse, unlike dozing in a car driven by someone else, means a higher likelihood of doing a dive head-first off the horse in the middle of a ride. On a horse. A very large animal. With a distance that my head was not made to fall from.

And speaking of Xander.

I tried to get him to spar with me the first time we came to a stop, because you know, experience points. He was reluctant at first because he thought I needed rest after a long ride, but I convinced him that a little sparring wouldn't hurt anyone.

So we sparred. And I lost because he did 'challenge' me.

And I got like zero experience points.

I mean, to say that would be rude because technically, it was 0.18 experience points, in the three sparring sessions we did. So generous.

Xander mistook my disappointed face to be from losing to him, and gave me another inspirational speech on how I couldn't win all my battles, but he approved very much of my drive to grow stronger.

Thanks, bro, but I just want to survive, and it looks like my being a Lunatic in all ways is detrimental to that wish.

I tried with Lilith and Gunter, since that didn't work out with Xander. Maybe it was a one-at-a-time deal. Since I beat him this time, I had to beat someone else.

Nope. All I learned was that Lilith, for all her super strength, really sucked at fighting with a weapon, and I got like zilch experience points from sparring.

Since training was going to be pretty inefficient, I also spent time with the magic dude of the family. Because this is a world filled with cool shit like magic flying out of books and weird bamboo-fan things that split apart and come back, and if you think I'm not going to try and find out how to use them you are fucking kidding yourself.

I approached him and gave him puppy dog eyes. Corrin was no great beauty – past me, please reconsider idea of flying through personalization and just going with the default and make a pretty avatar – but she had round eyes that just kind of screamed 'this is a person you can trust to be honest and sincere'.

On top of the eyes, she had an open face as well. Pretty enough, and one that gave the wholesome, 'girl next door' kind of feeling. The kind that protagonists in the whole clichés of high school setting movies had, to stand out in Hollywood-made model-esque cheerleaders and jocks.

"Big Sister?" he asked warily. Smart of him to beware the puppy dog eyes. They always meant the wearer wanted something.

"I've been thinking about how you said winning with pointy sticks aren't everything." I think that's what you said, anyways. At that time I was just basking in the feeling of having completed the quest, and not having to die just yet.

Leo didn't correct me. "Along those lines, yes," he said, which was just a roundabout 'yes'.

I put on my best 'please help me oh wise one' face, while keeping the puppy dog eyes. The one I pulled when I needed to get my brother to do something related to his areas of expertise for me, and I couldn't specifically remember anything he owed me. It always worked on my twin, so I hoped it worked on Leo. "Can you teach me about magic, then?"

He pressed his lips together thoughtfully, and then blew out a sigh.

"Magic is not just some simple hand-wave to bring forth cool effects," he warned. Damn, he knew me too well. "It's a complicated art and a field of study that one can dedicate their entire life to, yet never reach the end of. It's a science and a miracle in one, and a dangerous companion on the path of life."

Listen, Pretty Edgelord, I get it. It's dangerous. But everything here is also dangerous, and fuck me if I don't get to learn magic at the least while I have to suffer in this fictional crap-saccharine world of yours.

_I_  would have preferred an owl-delivered letter welcoming me to Hogwarts as well, bro. In a time after Harry Potter and his cronies at that, because no war please. Me no like fighting. At all.

And of course fate would stick me in a war game. Damnit.

"I'll be careful," is what I said instead. "Besides, you're going to be teaching me, so I couldn't possibly get into doing things that are too stupid and dangerous."

"Who says I was going to teach you?"

I pouted. "Who else would I learn it from?"

"Hmph. You shouldn't assume."

Despite that, he looked pleased. Too easy.

"Sorry," I said. "I guess I should have realized you were busy . . . I'm sorry, but I didn't know who else to ask that would be as good at magic as you."

His lips twitched upwards. "True. You only need to ask, and I shall teach you anything you desire," he said generously. Score!

"However, if I am to teach you magic, I insist that you know the basics." He was firm on this. "I don't care if you think you know what I'm talking about and want to move along straight into actual magic-working, you will first listen and pay attention to the basics, and you will know them."

That was probably fair, since I knew nothing, so I nodded eagerly.

Leo took in a deep breath of air, and began to talk.

"Though it is possible to call upon magic without a medium, it is best to have a conduit to direct the flow in a more controlled, efficient way. The two types of conduits that we use in Nohr, at least on the battlefield, are the staves and the tomes."

"Like your special tome." I would have said 'book', but his use of the proper word made me change my choice in vocabulary. It might offend him, and I wanted to avoid offending him, at least until my crash course was done.

"Yes." Leo's hand flew to his side, where his ever-present purple covered tome sat, and tugged it loose so he could set it on his lap. "Brynhildr is very special."

Oh, is that how you pronounce your magic book's name? I thought it was pronounced 'brine-hild'. Like 'pickle water hild'.

Fucking English. Or whatever the fuck language with shit grammar rules that came from. Fuck it let's just blame English.

Leo glanced down at Brynhildr like a pet owner looking at his imperious, sassy and my-pace, own-tempo cat. Fondness mixed with exasperation.

What.

"Brynhildr cannot be wielded by anyone she doesn't choose," he said. Did you just refer to your book as a 'she'? He just called his book a 'she'.

Why were all my brothers, blood-related or fictional and adopted, like this with inanimate objects? At least Xander was normal –

Wait, no, he had a magical sword too. Odds were, he'd treat it all special too, like it was his girlfriend or son. Didn't his son have like the same name as his sword?

Damn it.

While I despaired, he continued on, eyes slightly glazed over in memory as he stroked the cover of the book like it was an actual fucking cat. I would have begun to reconsider my choice in magic teacher, had he not said something that caught my interest.

"If someone she doesn't choose tries to force a spell out of her, he'll have his magic backflow violently."

Meaning . . . ?

When he saw I didn't get it, Leo kindly made it simpler to understand for me. "He'll explode with his own magic."

Ah. Okay. No stealing Brynhildr for a test run then.

"More importantly, writings inside Brynhildr cannot be read by those she does not deem worthy." To demonstrate, he opened to a page in the middle and showed me . . . blank pages. It was parchment, colored in the light caramel-cream browned tone that screamed old paper, and completely empty of anything. Magic circles. Spells. Fucking doodles of stick-figure wizards with lightning bolts coming out of their stick-ier wands. None of what you might have expected in a magic book,

So he couldn't show me how the tomes worked with his special book. He did, however, have a Thunder tome, and dug it out of his saddlebag so that he could flip through its pages and show me.

"Magic is intricate and demanding," he said. "And requires a price from the caster – the magical energy that runs through you."

Like MP or PP – the amount of energy you had that limited how many times you could fire off a move. "Okay."

"In theory it is simple. Use the magic innate in you to affect your surroundings. Merge it with the natural energy of the world, and with the product temporarily bend the laws of reality to bring forth the results you desire."

It took me a little while to get that, and until I could say it in my own wording and metaphor Leo refused to move on.

"So it's like." I frowned. "I have my own energy, and that's like coffee beans, or coffee powder. And the natural energy in the world is like water. And I merge the two to create the magic, and . . . yeah. Use the coffee as a weapon." Because scalding coffee is a weapon. Shut up.

Leo smiled approvingly. "Not a bad metaphor," he said. "The magic produced by the combination of the world's energy and your own innate magic, however, must be presented in, shall we say, a proper cup to, er, fit the situation. For example, Elise would be most unhappy if she was to be served drinks in buckets at her tea party.

"That is where the magic circles and spells come into play. The spell is the controller, the promised key word that triggers the magic. The magic circles are an extension, made to create the directions of the magic, the contract between you and the warping of reality, and preparations to lead to your spell being the correct trigger word. More complex spells will require calculations, to make up for inconsistencies in magic throughout the world."

The inconsistencies in magic, Leo added, came because the natural energy actually came from nature, and there was less of it in areas with, predictably, less danger. Even in a fantasy world it was important to go green.

"But even the most brilliant of mages can't constantly adjust magic circles and calculations for all the factors around them while in the middle of a battlefield, where every disadvantage can mean death, of either the caster or the ally. The Witch Queens of legend were always said to have a tome if they went into battle, and even Nightwalker Sorcerers of present times wouldn't do it. That's just arrogance."

Whoever the fuck those guys were. I assumed that meant it was super hard, like saying something is so hard that even Superman couldn't break it.

"And you can't do it?" I asked the prettiest mage boy in the game, slightly disappointed. But if he couldn't do it, then no one could.

Well, maybe if Cursed Girl, Wind Boy and Capture Lady helped? They had some pretty fly magic as well. Paper-thin defenses, so they kept dying, but their magic was awesome and it was Phoenix mode – they popped right back up like Bobo dolls. Plus they were supposed to be really good at the magic gig.

Leo looked at me flatly. "No. I told you – it's about efficiency and convenience."

He went over the Thunder tome, flipping through thick pages. I used to think that the mages should be able to carry more stuff on them, since all they were carrying were books, but I hadn't noticed or realized that these tomes were the sizes of textbooks – the super heavy, thick ones that for some reason your teacher insists you carry around every day because the school is too poor to afford e-books for its students and there are perfectly good paper copies so why not cause lower back problems for youngsters with texts from twenty years ago– and the paper was like, three times thicker than the paper I was used to.

In other words, it would be a miracle for mages to carry around more than three,  _max_ , and fight properly. Dark Knights probably had it better than regular mages, thanks to their horse. No wonder Leo was one – Brynhildr was thicker than the Thunder tome, and its cover encrusted with large jewels. And sure, they were pretty, but they were also huge-ass rocks, when it came down to it, and rocks tended to be this thing we called 'heavy'.

"Most tomes written follow the standard format taught in the Academy," he said. "The spell itself, which is the incantation that's used as a trigger, and the analysis of the spell as an overview to the tome's workings. The magic circles, which dictate how your magic will flow out and manifest, like how what cookie cutters you choose cuts out different shaped dough. And finally, the calculations at the end, like endnotes, which decrease negative rebounds from the spell and increases its efficiency."

To put it in a way that was easier for me to remember, tomes were the devices, phone, laptop, whatever complicated thing that normal humans couldn't make on their own at home, and the mage a battery to power it up. Whatever I put in changed depending on the tome, and the output – the display, the sound, whatever – was powered by me but shaped by the tome's spell inside. And this way, the release of the battery was controlled and used efficiently, not released out into the air to be wasted. Got it.

"So, anyone could use magic if they had a tome and knew how to put magic into it?"

Leo looked like he remembered something annoying. The look of contempt wasn't directed at me, but rather at a memory of . . . someone. Or something.

He still looked super pretty while doing it, though, so that was alright. Although if he kept frowning he wasn't going to look pretty in the long term. Wrinkles, man. Proper skin care is an important thing.

" _Technically_ , any idiot could do it, as long as they know how to inject magic into a tome," he said, like he tasted moldy gym socks in his mouth. "But it's important to – at the very  _least_  – know and understand the magic circles in the tome you use, because then you can better control the magic that you send into the tome and maximize output with less input. Mages tend to be more frail compared to physical fighters, so it's important that magic users know their limits and have good control. Otherwise, they'll wear out and grow exhausted in the middle of a battlefield."

Dang, so it wasn't just shooting fire and lightning out of the palms of my hands. It was some seriously complicated, engineering level shit going on here.

Leo read the look of disappointment in my eyes easily, and elaborated. "Just because tomes are the easiest methods of using magic offensively," he said, "doesn't mean they're the only way. It's just for efficiency's sake that we rely on tomes and staves. The reason the tomes are so intricate is because tomes are made to function in optimal rates in all scenarios. They have to be able to work in most circumstances with minimal input of magic, hence the need for all the formulas. If a mage is just casting a spell directly, without a tome, it might take longer than using a tome's trigger word, or be weaker and less controlled, but it won't take forever to do so."

There was really only one thing I could say to that. "Show me!"

He sighed, muttering something about how I was acting like Elise. I took that as a compliment and waited with shining eyes while he put the tome down and raised a hand.

" _Logi_."

It wasn't a word I recognized. I, as in present me from outside the game. Muscle memory apparently came with Google translate, because I understood it to mean 'fire'.

I didn't even get to think about how weird that was. With one simple word, a small ball of fire burst at the tip of his fingers. I gasped, everything about my innate Google translate forgotten.

"This is a basic fire spell," he said, and with every small movement the ball of fire reacted. "I'm controlling the amount of magic going into this spell, but if I was to increase or decrease the flow, then the size would respond appropriately."

To demonstrate, the ball of fire grew larger, and then smaller in size.

"A Fire tome can use – and often does make use of – the same spell to trigger the magic, but unlike what I just did here," he said. "It would be more controlled, and a lot stronger. In the case of those that are less experienced with magic like I am, it would also be a lot faster."

"Why would it be a lot faster?"

"The tome would calibrate the magic, make the calculations, control the approximate flow of energy and convert it into the appropriate spell. All the wielder of the tome would have to do is insert the magic, and aim," Leo said dryly. "So if you're not like me, with experience, plenty of magic and fine control, then the speed you cast the spell without a tome, and with, would have a greater difference."

"Ohh."

It made more sense now. Sort of.

Well, for someone who had never grown up in a world where magic was real, it made as much sense as it could.

"Does all magic use the same language?" I asked, while I could. "Why not just say 'fire' instead of . . . you know?"

I thought Nohr spoke English. Except it probably wouldn't be called 'English' here, I suppose. And what would the Hoshidans speak, then? English? Japanese? The equivalent of whatever in this world?

My head was starting to hurt.

Leo smiled and nearly distracted me from my raging inner confusion. "Astute of you to notice. The language technically doesn't matter," he said. "We could use the Common tongue, passed down to humans from dragons, or speak Nohrian like I did just now, or even Hoshidan, and still trigger magic."

Fucking hell, Nohr had their own language as well? Fuck. I hope the innate Google translate didn't go away, because if it did I was screwed. More screwed than I was now.

"What actually shapes the magic's energy into the form we desire is through the 'name' – by speaking out loud and branding the energy with the identity we want, we change it and give it the right shape."

You lost me, bro.

He saw my confusion and smiled softly again. "Think of magic like your Butler, Jakob," he said. "If you told him you wanted tea, he would bring you a pot, would he not?"

Yes he would. As well as some sweet tea food. Seven days with him and he was going to be the only thing I missed about this game world when I left. He ruined me from living alone and getting my own shit, I say. Ruined me!

"Magic answers the call, if the order is given right," Leo continued. "Even if you wrote it, or sent subtle hints, your Butler would still react, though it may be slower than you ordering him, directly and verbally. It is a force ubiquitous and beyond mere mortal limits, unrestrained by language barriers. Your will, in the end, is what matters."

Oh, so it's like looking something up on the Internet. It doesn't really matter what language you type it in, because Google does this thing where they find the relevant item and bring you an equivalent in your language as well.

"It depends on how 'fluent' and close you are with magic, how much magic you have, but some skilled Sorcerers can cast cur –  _spells_  on others without even needing to say anything."

I feel like the word he was about to say was 'curses'. I looked at him with wide eyes, but he didn't quite meet them, pretending to be engrossed in sweeping the cover of the Thunder tome with his fingers.

Was that what he could do? Because the Nohrian siblings were the ones with a super tragic, traumatic backstory where family meant shit when blood-related siblings were out for each other's blood, and the ones I knew now were the victors of the Hunger Games-esque fuckfest Garon let happen.

Knowing that it was probably a sensitive subject, I just leaned against his shoulder. "Thanks, Leo," I said, pretending to have not noticed the slip-up. "You're the best."

Above my head, he laughed softly. "Anytime," he said.

* * *

The next few days passed like this. In the day, we would travel by horseback, staying mostly silent. I learned why when I opened my mouth to talk and a bug flew in and crashed into the back of my throat. I nearly threw up, and came even closer to falling off the horse. Jakob nearly freaked out, too.

So no talking during the horse rides. But when we dismounted for breaks or for the night, I talked with Xander and Leo. More Leo than Xander, because we still had magic lessons and Xander was busy.

Contrary to what he had warned me about magic when I asked him, Leo told me that I wouldn't have to get too deep into the mechanics of magic to be able to use it in actual battle.

Not that I was complaining about not having to enter what would undoubtedly be a new world of study that would make no sense to me to start pulling out the magic guns, but why? Wouldn't it be better for me to fight if I actually knew magic better?

"Detailed education isn't necessary to wield a tome in battle," Leo said. "Actually, most of the battle mages in Nohr aren't great scholars. Giving detailed, expensive education to all foot soldiers is too costly when rounding up those with magical potential and teaching them enough to channel their innate magic and carry tomes is quicker and cheaper."

Even mages, he was saying, were being used as meat shields.

I must have made a face, because Leo smiled crookedly, like he had a bitter taste in his mouth. "Like I said," he said. "Tomes are made for maximum efficiency and result. As of present times, there are no magical tools more efficient in combat magics present."

Because wands were probably not a thing here. So did that mean there was no Hogwarts to get into? What a shame. And I waited for so long to get my acceptance letter, too, hoping it was lost because of some confusion on owl mail's part. No way owls were reliable enough to guarantee perfect delivery all the time.

"Higher ups, such as the leaders of mage squads, are of course more skilled and knowledgeable in magic studies, but most of the true artists and scholars spend less time on the battlefield as active combatants, and more in workshops writing new tomes, rewriting formulas, creating new spells or teaching new recruits."

And, well, it wasn't like I was going to be some prof in the field of magic, because that sounded kind of gross. I was really just interested in making sparks fly.

So I accepted his instructions because he was the expert here, and listened some more. He explained magic, and told little stories on the side of what happened when careless mistakes were made.

"Never use a tome that's been too damaged," he would say, and then talk about the time a recruit, fresh in the army, accidentally spilled soup in his tome while going over the spells, and then decided to use it in battle anyways because tomes were expensive, even the standardized ones. Luckily for the soldier, it hadn't ended in him exploding. Instead, the attack – a standard Thunder tome – had been accompanied with the scent of onions, and made the caster tear up every time he used the tome.

It was super fun learning about magic, but my lesson got interrupted when Jakob came to check on me and found both of us still up and talking late into the night.

I learned two things from this experience – that Leo had placed a very effective silence spell around so we wouldn't disturb anyone with our talking without me noticing, and that Jakob could act bitchy to even a prince if he thought my health was on the line.

Dude, I have once pulled like three consecutive all-nighters surviving on nothing but gummy worms and Red Bulls. If I could have actually grown  _wings_  from chugging all those energy drinks, I would have been an angel with three full pairs. A little chat at night is nothing.

I said as much in less . . . real me-like words, but Jakob was adamant, and Leo agreed.

"Good night, Big Sister," he said, stifling a yawn.

Yawns were contagious. Okay, so maybe he had a point. I hid my own behind a hand and waved. "Night, Leo."

* * *

Jakob's discovery put an end to our lessons, and for the next two nights I stuck to reading Corrin's journals for a little before sleeping. It wasn't as fun as magic lessons – in fact, it was downright depressing sometimes.

Me, wanting to avoid all the hurt in the written words, skipped to the parts that were happier – when she wrote about her siblings visiting. There was still some longing for the day when she would finally be permitted to leave the fortress, which made me feel a little guilty for being in her body in that critical time, but it looked like she really loved her siblings. She wrote about her sleepovers with Camilla and Elise, where they made pillow forts and played games throughout the night. About listening to Xander's sword practice sessions in the early mornings, because he didn't slack off of even when he came to visit. About going over her studies with Leo, who was more advanced than she was in every field, but patiently went over them with her anyways.

About promising them how, one birthday dinner, when she finally got the chance to go out of the fortress, they would go for a picnic at a meadow nearby and watch the stars in the sky.

Another cool thing about Corrin – her birthday was the same as mine. March 15th, the day when Caesar was killed. Probably because that was the only personalized part of the avatar creation, I guessed.

And then, we arrived at the edges of the capital of Nohr.

It was like a scene out of a fantasy game. Weary, dust-covered travelers, standing on a small grassy hill just outside the city, gazing at the view before they were to actually enter it. Mind you, Windmire was no New York or Paris or London on a postcard, but it was . . .

Well, it didn't look like the shithole I came to expect to see from a place in Nohr, that was for sure. It was dark, but the days were almost always cloudy in Nohr from what I'd seen. The city had circles of walls in rings, with spokes separating districts, something that made me stare. The circular patterns gave the otherwise what-could-be-called drab city an interesting point.

Camilla and Elise came out to greet us there, on the back of Camilla's wyvern. And dude, the game made me underestimate just how big the wyverns were, because Camilla's wyvern looked like a fucking dragon. I expected something around the size of a horse, maybe a little bigger, but this? This was the size of a plane.

Not a jet plane or a passenger plane. One of the small ones that could fit one person – okay, there were two people, let's go with double – max. but big enough, and unlike those small, cute planes painted in bright pretty colors, this dragon was dark and had an aura of purple magic thingy around it, with glowing red eyes.

Which, not to discriminate or stereotype, usually pointed to something evil and scary.

"Good girl, Marzia," Camilla crooned as she stepped off her wyvern, and unwrapped the scarf around her head. Tresses of light purple spilled out, and instead of suffering from weirdly matted hair she looked like she belonged on the cover of Fantasy Vogue, filming a piece on dragon riders.

Elise hopped off after her, and she didn't even bother unwrapping her hair from the scarf. Instead, she charged straight at me, screeching "Big Sister!"

"Little Sister!" I called back, opening my arms and bracing for impact. The charge and impact didn't hurt me, and I even managed to lift her up and hold her tight to my chest for a while before putting her back down on the ground.

Dear lord she was adorable. Was it even possible for someone to be this cute in real life? Obviously not, that was why she was fictional, but even so this was cute to the point of heart-attack inducing.

If being cute was a crime, Elise should have been executed several times over.

"Oh, Corrin, darling!"

Elise's hug might not have hurt but Camilla's bear-hug certainly did. It crushed me straight into her boobs, and as awesome as that experience was, I couldn't breathe.

Oh, I can die happy now –

Wait no, I can't.

"Big Sister," Leo said, and though his voice sounded muffled to my ears I could hear the amusement in it. "I think she's choking."

Xander laughed quietly, while Camilla smothered me one last time before releasing me back into the world, and allowing me to stare at her chest from a good point of view.

Instead of the armor that let half her boobs look at the world, she was wearing a leather outfit. It wasn't as skin tight as the Catwoman suit, but it was tight enough to earn a 'nice' in my books.

But was that okay to fight in? Instead of revealing half her breasts, it only revealed one-fifths, sure, but that was still a lot of unprotected area in a pretty vital region.

But hey, who was the better fighter here, her, or me? If you think I'm about to argue with someone who can ride a plane-sized flying lizard with Glowing Red Eyes of EVIL, you're nuts.

Camilla tossed her thick mane of hair back, and the wavy locks cascaded like a shampoo commercial to put all shampoo commercials to shame.

"I missed you so much," she crooned. "Goodness, you feel like you lost weight. Has Xander and Leo been starving you on the way here?"

"We should have a tea party!" Elise said. "Oh, Corrin, I'm so glad you're here! I can show you the gardens I've been working on! We have pretty flowers, and Leo's got his section for his plants and they're pretty too-"

Leo sighed in exasperation. "They're for magic, and actually serve a purpose, Elise, you know magical herbs are a necessity for-"

"As soon as you get rested up, I'm taking you around Windmire. I need to make sure you see all sorts of men-"

Xander looked horrified. "Camilla,  _what_ -"

"Please, Xander, would you prefer she gets swept off her feet by the first supposed gentleman she meets?"

"Well, no, but . . ."

Camilla had already won, and Xander clearly knew it from the way he trailed off.

Elise didn't care about what the older siblings were talking about, however, and she continued to talk over both of them, and Leo's attempt to correct her. "They're really pretty flowers, and I have a section where I planted flowers that reminded me of you!"

"Elise, when do you intend to behave like the adult you technically are?" Leo said. "You're twelve already, not seven."

Camilla tutted, able to afford dropping into a different conversation now that she had logically (?) defeated Xander. "I for one think her cheer is a good complement to this gloomy kingdom, Leo."

It might have just looked like a naturally excited family with strong bonds talking, but all throughout their talk – what I assumed was Saturday Night Live, Nohrian style – they were subtly checking on me, gauging my reactions.

I knew what these people were doing – they were trying to be cheerful as they dropped information for me. They were certainly making the effort to make it seem natural, but I could see it.

What would the real Corrin say to her 'siblings' at the effort they were making?

Well, from what I remembered about playing the game, she seemed to be a fairly polite speaker, who didn't swear like a sailor or me a-la-natural, so that might be a good place to start.

"You've all been so patient and kind since I lost my memory . . . ."

Camilla and Xander stiffened, and Elise flinched. Only Leo maintained his poker face, but his fists clenched.

So I smiled as brightly as I could. Corrin was no great beauty, but she had an honest, cheerful face, and a smile that was the infectious type. I practiced getting used to my face in the mirror so I wouldn't do something stupid, and I knew how to smile widely without looking deranged now.

It was a good thing I knew, because when I put on a crazy smile my pale skin and red eyes meant I looked like a vampire ready to suck some blood. Luckily it didn't take much effort because the whole thing was just adorable.

"Thank you all. I'm so grateful to have you all."

Xander, hesitantly, smiled back. "We are grateful to have you as well."

He reached out to ruffle my hair. I might have protested, but his smile was a little sad.

Dude, what the heck. Why are you sad still.

Wondering if I did something wrong, I snuck a glance at the others to check. Camilla looked touched and ready to shed some tears, Elise was beaming at me, and Leo looked like he approved.

Okay, just emotions then. Alright.

"Let's enter the castle, then," Xander said, the moment past us now. "Castle Krackenburg is magnificent."

My real smile began to slip, however, and I had to struggle to keep a mimicry plastered on my face as I looked at the castle waiting for us. Unlike the Disney castles – or, you know, any castle that comes to mind when someone thinks 'castle' – Castle Krackenburg was in a hole. As in, no magnificent figure, no grand silhouette to be observed by passersby. Someone decided to dig a big-ass hole and make a castle in it, because that makes complete sense, right?

It felt like I was going to be literally descending into hell.

Joy.


	5. Interlude - Xander: For the Glory of Nohr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When his world collapsed yet again, Xander clutched at the rules for support. What else could he do, in this chaotic madness opening its dark maw widely like a ravenous beast intent on devouring anything it could, but hold onto the only source of order around? What else could he do but clutch at his sword like it was a crutch so he could be strong, appear strong?
> 
> What else?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: OCs will be mentioned, but don't worry - they all die.

The two treasures left by Anya Giausar, Founder of Nohr, were always passed down to her descendants. The tome Brynhildr, though it disappeared with her, eventually resurfaced and was returned to those of House Giausar, where it was fickle in choosing those that could read its pages.

The sword Siegfried, however, had been passed on to her first son, Rastaban Giausar, and served all the heirs apparent to the throne at least once. Not all kings, for Siegfried would not be held by the few that Brynhildr had laid claim to before unfortunate circumstances led her wielder to the throne, but all those given the circlet of black thorns and declared the next to sit in the dark throne, for the acceptance of Siegfried was vital to being named the heir.

Xander was seven when the divine sword accepted him. At that time, the sword had been taller than he was, and he could barely hold the sword with both arms, let alone one hand. His body shook with the effort to hold the heavy sword, and the only dark fires he could deliberately call from the center of the blade had been sparks. Enough to be seen, but nowhere near as impressive as the stories of fire-wreathed monarchs leading their soldiers in battle.

Siegfried shared a title with the kings of Nohr.

Protector of Nohr.

It was also his title, now, and it fell on his shoulders as heavy as the blade itself.

/ / /

Her slender fingers pressed his shoulder, one by one. There was no real strength behind them, not enough to cause him pain, and yet the cold fingers burned his skin.

"Here are the rules, my precious son, my dear prince," his mother whispered in his ear, dry breath tickling him, though he dared not squirm. Queen Katarina was his mother by blood, and a beautiful, beloved woman, but Xander feared her as much as he loved her.

She was never cruel, not in the way some of the concubines were to their child when they thought no one could see, but behind her frail health hid a powerful woman who justified the means by the end.

The braver of the twin decided to stand up to his half-sister, and was punished for his courage. Lobelia's shrieking increased to an entirely new level, and he had his hair grabbed by tiny, vicious fingers. His brother, though meeker, joined in the fight when he saw what their half-sister was doing to his other half, and everything started to fall apart then.

Xander heard his mother smile, stretching lips hiding their true, sickly pale tint behind rose-stained lips. "The last one standing becomes king."

Queen Katerina was frail. Nohr allowed women to fight – indeed, all women of royalty and nobility were  _expected_  to fight, because this was Nohr, and if they weren't strong they would die. Though beautiful and born into one of Nohr's oldest, richest noble families, Katerina of House Schedar was an oddity, for sure. She was not an apt fighter, with ax nor spear nor sword. She was no proficient practitioner of magic, both tome and stave. She lacked even the strength to properly pull back a bowstring, and the skill to accurately hit the target with an arrow.

And yet, against all odds, she had become Garon's wife in law in the Dusk Dragon's name, and taken her place as the head of all of Garon's women till the day she drew her last breath and took no more from the air around.

There are many kinds of strength. Strength lies in the power behind an ax, in the whispered words of magic bringing forth a small storm through enchanted runes weaving circles around the caster, in an arrow flying with deadly precision, in a dagger swung just enough to leave someone bleeding to death.

There is also strength in manipulating those around to keep oneself safe in a castle filled with thorns under rose petals.

Xander failed to realize the significance of that fact until she was buried in the ground, and left with nothing to protect him save for his title as Crown Prince. She had lasted until Siegfried claimed him as its wielder, but once she was gone he only held a sword in his frail arms, warm but metallically so, and rigid.

/ / /

What happens when you are in the dark, hunted by foes hiding in shadows seeking light, and you hold the source of light?

They can see you, but you can't see them.

The circlet of black metal burns like a crown of thorns on his brows, as do the eyes staring at him with greed and ambition and maybe even hate, for what he could become. For what his disappearance would bring them.

_If you cannot hide in the shadows,_ his mother told him _. Then be a light so strong the darkness cannot easily swallow you._

/ / /

Morning light began to break just as Xander finished his early training. One of the servants watching over the training fields silently offered him a towel and a canteen of water. Xander took both gratefully, and made good use of them.

"Xander!" a familiar voice called from behind, and he turned to see a boy near his age come jogging towards him. They shared similar curls of pale gold, and the same face shape, but unlike Xander, he had dark blue eyes, from his own mother.

Markus broke out into a sunny smile. "Up and training early as usual, huh?"

/ / /

Perhaps like his mother, Xander was not born with a natural talent in fighting. He was not a prodigy in any area of the body, Queen Katerina had judged objectively. He had the potential for greatness, certainly, but only when compared to those without the dragon's blood in their veins like dark fire. When compared to the standard set by other royals, he was above-average at best, but nothing worth praising about.

He had no unparalleled magic like Anastasia, no talent in healing like Damian. Wyverns obeyed, but he had no inherent charisma to make them bend to him like Camilla, or the ability to be one with the horse he rode like Mathilde. He did not show signs of being a young prodigy in strategy and academics.

Xander did not know what his mother was planning for his future before she looked at him one day and realized that he was, in fact, a genius – and one in an area she considered crucial to his survival.

"You are a genius of effort," she told him. Her pale golden hair – not at all uncommon for a Nohrian – was braided loosely and hung down one shoulder, resting over her nightgown. The bed she rested in was large, but she sat in it alone, a small figure made to look even smaller in comparison.

She had not shared her bed with her husband in a long time – but she did not let that stop her, or him.

Xander, in his youth, was disappointed by her declaration, but he did not let it show. He would have much preferred being a genius of the sword, like the legendary King Siegbert, or the other kings and queens of Nohr that had been chosen by Siegfried.

He thought he did not let it show, but his mother saw right through him.

"Come closer," she rasped in a low voice. "Do you know why your father does not wield the Siegfried?"

Xander, leaned in to better catch his mother's words, shook his head.

"He cannot," she breathed words of secrets into a young boy's ears, hot and sharp like venom. Xander flinched at the terrible truth she revealed. "Siegfried is the blade of Nohr's defender – but it will not give its power to those who it deems unworthy. Even when," she paused to cough. "Even when it has chosen a wielder, it will draw back its support the moment it deems him or her unworthy."

He remembered the first time he had held the blade, felt the dark fire pulse over his skin and pierce through him like a spear – and yet, though his sleeves burnt and shredded, there was no scar left from the harsh heat. The flames had flickered into sparks, and try as he might he could not raise the initial blaze again, but he remembered.

Harsh heat, but no ill intent. In the moment he had held Siegfried, the blade had felt to him more like a strict teacher. Strict but caring.

Caring, but so very strict.

"And for all their fighting acumen," Queen Katerina said. "Many Nohrian Kings found themselves unable to wield Siegfried as they once had."

He stared down at his hands, then not yet calloused and scarred. His mother traced a slender finger against his palms, as if marking the places where skin would suffer the most with a cool touch devoid of any affection.

"You must never stop trying," she declared, and like a curse her words branded themselves into his heart, his soul. "Until the day you die. For when you stop your struggles to improve, you will die."

He never did.

/ / /

It was foolish to trust, his mother had said, and yet when she died, it was her friend and a concubine of the king that reached out to him. A friend in a rival, what an odd bedfellow – not literal, of course – to have, but Katarina had been nothing if not practical.

A political move, Xander could guess. By taking him under her wing, so to speak, the Lady Fredericka of Sheratan could be doubly insured, with her influence over the Crown Prince as well as through her own son. By taking him as her ward, she had double the chance of becoming Queen Mother.

Markus, however, was nowhere near as politically inclined as his own mother. He stuck by Xander as a friend and a brother, eager for a spar or a race on horseback.

"Wyverns are weird," Markus said, making a face as the oldest princesses were being gifted with a baby wyvern each. Xander and Markus had already received theirs, as was customary for all children of House Giausar, and though Xander spent the necessary time with his own winged mount to train him, he preferred his horse to the wyvern. He found the wyverns too eager for blood, and preferred the comfort of the ground near his center of gravity to the aerial view the flying mounts offered.

"They are," Xander agreed. His lessons taught him that the wyverns were a type of a dragon descendent, except they were born when the magic-infused grounds of Nohr were met with the spilt blood of the Dusk Dragon. It was why they lacked the intelligence of true dragons, or the dragon-blooded royals like the royal family.

One of the princesses overheard them speaking, and she stuck her tongue out at their direction.

Markus stuck his out right back, and added a rude gesture of his hand. The princess – Camilla, her name was – flushed in anger, and she retaliated right back before the instructor noticed her distraction and scolded her for not paying attention. The princess at her side giggled.

"Let the girls be Wyvern Riders," Markus said. Many women joined the air troops – not just because Hoshidans filled their air troops with women, but because they were usually lighter than men, and allowed their mounts a greater flexibility in battle. Wyvern Riders usually served more as support for their beasts rather than fighters themselves.

It was why he and Markus dreamed of becoming Paladins. They wanted to be the ones fighting – Xander with Siegfried, and Markus with his lances. Together, they would be the paragon knights all soldiers in Nohr would look up to as they defended Nohr.

It was a dream he shared with someone, once upon a time.

/ / /

Anastasia, newly dubbed 'Crown Princess of Nohr', looked at him with dark eyes like the abyss.

She frowned lightly when he shifted, uncomfortable with her intense stare. The stare of a prodigy, as they called her. The one that had single-handedly put an end to a rebellion with such cruelty that no dissent dared to sound, in fear of bringing back the demon princess to their salted lands once more.

For this act, and for other accomplishments she had made in her short time at the court, she was rewarded with a circlet of black metal, like the one he wore on his brow.

"You," she said cryptically. "You're someone that would rather break than bend, wouldn't you?"

Brynhildr was clutched to her chest like the precious treasure it was, and her arms looked too frail to hold the tome properly, but Xander dared not ask if he could carry it for her. He dared not speak to his half-sister, who was half-royal and half-Nightwalker and a complete enigma, in fear that her eyes would see through his everything.

A slow smile spread over Anastasia's lips. "Then blessings, dear Prince Xander," she said. "Blessings upon you – here's to hoping you will never be challenged by something that will force you to choose, and rip your soul into pieces."

She was a paradox, as she stood there with the Brynhildr in her arms and the circlet upon her brows. She was both his greatest potential ally, and his greatest potential threat in one. She was nothing to him, and he was nothing to her – and yet that could all be changed in a heartbeat, beyond his or her control.

Anastasia tipped her head lightly, in elegant deference to him. The smooth action filled him with no joy.

"So long as there is a breath left in your body, and the tome Brynhildr in my hands," she promised him. "I shall never turn against you. Does that settle your worried mind?"

It was a mockery, and they both knew it. Anastasia never initiated a conversation like this with him again, other than words of politeness and pardon, and he, fearing what the Nightwalker-raised princess would tell him, never did so himself. He watched from afar, careful to never leave her in his blind spot, and knew she did not often interact with her other siblings, save for with gentle, unambitious Damian and a younger boy far from the claims to the crown named Leo. That she took on two retainers, both also not of noble families that could help her become Queen. That she took charge of the mage brigade, and restructured and taught the heads of its battalions herself to increase their efficiency in battle.

That as they grew older, she spent less time on the battlefield and more in her workshop, continuing her research in magic with Damian, focusing on improving stave quality and tome efficiency. After Damian was captured and killed by the Hoshidans, she withdrew further, experimenting with tomes and staves instead of participating in court or building up a base of support as a princess.

He never got to know her, and so he did not fully understand what she had been thinking when she decided to massacre most of the remaining royal children and concubines.

/ / /

He didn't notice Queen Arete's disappearance until it was announced, and his father slipped into further depression.

He didn't notice just how Azura was neglected and abused until she disappeared, and it took a week for anyone to notice.

He didn't notice Anastasia's deteriorating sanity until she murdered more of Father's concubines and children than any other in one bloody swoop.

He didn't notice Markus and his relationship with Lavinia until she was killed and he was cursed to rot slowly.

He didn't notice anything until it was too late, and the cost was too much.

He was not worthy of the title 'Defender of Nohr'.

/ / /

As if bored, Anastasia flicked her fingers, and another burst of magic put an end to a life, right before his eyes.

True to her words, Anastasia did not even head his way once. He was never on her kill list.

But not the others. Not the concubines.

Bound in their seats by magic, they could only watch with terror-filled hearts as she executed them, one by one, and there was no escaping that fate until an interruption disturbed her magic and allowed Markus to break free.

With a roar of fury and fear, he leapt at Anastasia, and the small princess didn't stand a chance as her half-brother's fingers closed around her throat.

But her nails dug into the skin of her attacker, and near-silent words of a spell managed to escape her lips before her life did.

She fell, and Markus fell, and the spell holding them all down broke – but Xander had done nothing.

/ / /

It was Siegfried that snapped him out of his depression. The dark blade burned warmly at his side as one of the survivors – a young boy who had inherited the same pale golden hair and brown eyes from Father like Xander – was given Brynhildr, in a far less ceremonious way than before. Former Crown Princess Anastasia had no more need of the divine tomb when her neck was broken and her soul departed, and the boy was chosen by the tome to read the words on its selective pages.

The sword whispered words he could not make out when Camilla made the arrangements for a mass funeral for all those that had passed, the black tiara of the Crown Princess on her lilac-colored head with eyes wide and glittering with unshed tears, including the sister closest to her and her own mother.

The sword still blazed in his hands, the torch of light in Nohr's darkest times, when a little baby girl was born and named 'Elise'.

Siegfried did not abandon him, and when the divine blade stayed by his side, he could not abandon others. Not as the Defender of Nohr.

/ / /

Leo came up to him one day, after a morning's training session. In his still-skinny arms, clutched tightly to his chest was Brynhildr, the tome so picky it would not let any but its chosen wielders read its contents.

"Yes, Leo?" Xander said, hoping his voice came out as gently as he hoped – as he needed it to be. Leo held the tome like its previous wielder did, but where she cradled the tome, carrying it as confidently as one would a satisfied, lazy cat, he clutched to it like a lifeline, desperate to hold onto something as he drowned in cold black water.

His retainers told him that Anastasia had seen something in the boy, and set him apart from the others, serving as a mentor of sorts in a way she hadn't with anyone, except perhaps the deceased Damian. Seraphina warned him to take caution, for who knew what Anastasia may have done to the impressionable mind of a young boy?

Leo wet his lips. "The wielders of Brynhildr almost never become king or queen," the young boy began, like he was reciting something. "Brynhildr never chooses a wielder that has ambitions of becoming king and sitting on the dark throne."

Xander's heart sank at the boy's voice – precocious, he wanted to say, but also tragic, forced to grow up so quickly. His mother had been one of those killed by Anastasia in her massacre, and though she had been one of the women seeking to use her child as leverage for favor from King Garon, Leo had still lost a mother that day.

But it wasn't just that, was it? This court had been twisted and evil before, for what else could he call a field where children were made to hold weapons in hands not fully grown and forced to use them against each other, when the same blood ran through their veins? What else would such an environment do but force quick growth, from children to child soldiers?

"Wielders of Brynhildr are always beneficial to the king, and to Nohr," Leo was continuing on, desperation driving his nervously collected plea for survival when Xander dropped to one knee so that Leo was taller than he was, and engulfed him in an embrace.

Leo stiffened in his arms, frightened, and the jewels and metals of Brynhildr's cover pressed against his chest, cold and hard as unearthed children of the ground were wont to be, but Xander did not let go. He held tight, hiding the hot tears threatening to spill from behind his eyes.

The eyes he shared with Leo. His brother.

"I promise," he said in a thick voice. "That you have nothing to fear. We are family, and family does not shed shared blood. I promise, Leo. I promise."

Xander felt Leo hesitate. Felt him unwrap one arm from his clutch on Brynhildr, felt it slip out from between their bodies, like he wanted to wrap it around Xander's back to return the embrace, but didn't know how.

"Promise?" the boy asked, voice breaking.

Trust no one, had been his mother's dying words but he couldn't keep them, not when Leo looked and sounded like he did. At that moment, Xander wouldn't have cared if Leo stabbed him in the heart with a dagger.

"I promise," Xander said hoarsely.

And Leo cried.

/ / /

Markus never regained his sanity before he died. Xander still visited every day, clinging to hope that at least once, his brother would break free from the curse Anastasia had placed on him before she died.

But Anastasia was too good at magic, and curses placed with dying breaths, Ezekiel informed him, especially the dying breaths of those who dallied with the darkest of the magical arts, were near-unbreakable.

Six months after the massacre, Xander arranged for another royal funeral, and bid his best friend goodbye.

/ / /

Camilla laughed. She laughed until she cried.

But really, Xander thought. Wasn't she crying and trying to hide her tears by making it sound like laughter until she could hide it no longer?

"I have no intention," his half-sister said at last, once she was calm. She wiped the tears from her face, and brushed her curls back into order. "Of going after the throne. Ever."

"I know." He did. He saw how she hated her mother's ambitious prodding, how she was happy and best when she was left to her own devices. Camilla, for all the court's gossip about her being a natural-born seductress just like her mother, was never one to seek the life of power plays and politics out of her own free will.

She eyed him speculatively, eyes violet and sparkling. "Do you now," she mused, more to herself than anything.

Xander thought for a moment. It was hard, fighting the habit of holding his tongue and his quiet nature, but practice had hardened his shyness and trauma had torn it away, leaving a raw, fresh thing that was easily malleable.

"You never killed any of our younger siblings."

Camilla's smile slipped, and she looked at his eyes for the longest time, searching for something. He let her, searching back. She was better at masking her feelings than he was, but he could observe.

"You kept track?" she asked briskly, breaking the silence all of a sudden.

Xander replied, thinking of all the faces and names that haunted his nightmares and clung heavily to Siegfried, to the circlet he wore, to him. "How could I not?"

Because for all the threat they were to him, potentially, they were also his siblings.

It was, objectively, not a good answer, but the way he said it apparently appealed to Camilla, because that was the point she began to open up to him. It took a few years – ingrained habit of wariness and the chilling fear crawling in their bones was no easy thing to shake off – but at some point in their new life as family, Xander realized that it no longer mattered which womb they had come from.

She was just his sister. They were just his younger siblings.

And he would protect them all, as Crown Prince of Nohr and wielder of Siegfried.

/ / /

"How many princes and princesses do you think Nohr once had?"

Laslow, taken aback at the abrupt change in topic, could not answer. But the man had not been here for that period in time, and Xander knew by now that his new retainer lacked knowledge deemed common and obvious in Nohr, sometimes. He was one filled with secrets.

"A long time ago," Xander said. "There were many. Much more than this. Castle Krackenberg used to be filled with royal concubines and children. My father had plenty of lovers, and they could only become concubines if they became pregnant with his child. What do you think happened to them?"

Laslow did not answer. Perhaps he could not, or perhaps he simply chose to keep his silence.

"All there is left is those that stand here today," he said. Battle took some. Execution took some as well. Hoshidans took others and the rest killed each other, desperate to live and to reach the top.

Death took them all. Death would always take them all, no matter what they did, but he would at least make sure their parting was late, far off in the distant future.

Back then, he had been young and weak. He was less so now, but aware of his mortal limits.

Still, he was willing to stand tall against Death and say, 'not today'.

"I will not fail to protect them again."

/ / /

He needed to see. He needed to be aware.

If he didn't, then it would be too late to react to any danger that came close to those he swore to protect.

He was done with watching those he cared about give their lives so he could live.

/ / /

"You take on too heavy a burden, milord."

Xander looked up from the towel at his solemn-eyed retainer. "Nonsense, Ezekiel," he said. "This is just the effort one needs to make in order to be worthy of the titles I hold."

The slim second son of a lesser noble house, chosen both for his talent in magic, and how different he was from Markus, shook his head.

"Many have not," Ezekiel said.

A gauntleted hand slapped Ezekiel's shoulder, making the Dark Knight wince in pain at the supposedly friendly blow.

"For once, I agree with him, my prince," said Seraphina. The Malig Knight made a face at the towel still in Xander's hand, and reached out to take it from him. Xander let her bend closer towards him, and caught the light scent of a flowery perfume from somewhere close to her neck. Behind the ears, maybe, or between her golden hair. Something soft and soothing, like lavender.

She looked him in the eyes, and he nearly flinched. "Your life," she said, green eyes firmly fixed to his. "Is far too important for you to pour it all away giving your all in everything."

"A good king would serve by example," Xander protested. "I still have far to go before I can be deemed worthy."

Of being Crown Prince. Of being Protector of Nohr. Of being the Dusk Dragon's descendent.

Ezekiel pointedly rolled his eyes towards the direction of the Central Hall, where the dark throne sat. Xander frowned, but his retainer showed no sign of repentance. "A good king also delegates well," he said. "Use us, milord. Let us do our duties as your retainers."

A smile spread across his lips, small and short but by no means false. For all his thorny words, Ezekiel meant well.

"Very well," Xander said.

/ / /

"I can have a retainer?" Corrin's eyes were wide with surprise.

"Yes," Xander told her. "Now that you may leave the fortress, you are a proper royal of Nohr, and eligible for retainers. It used to be the custom that nobles would serve as the retainers of princes and princesses, but that is a practice not always kept – especially in our generation."

Leo laughed. "I'll tell you the stories about my retainers later," he promised Corrin. "But our general rule is – anyone with the talent fitting the role gets the job, regardless of background or status."

That, Xander silently agreed, was certainly the case for his second pair of retainers. Peri was the daughter of a Count, though of a lesser House, but Laslow was a mercenary that had caught the eye of King Garon and been hired on the spot. Both were exceptional fighters, certainly. Peri had an enthusiasm for battle unparalleled by any he had seen, and Laslow's style of fighting – dance-like, fluid and unpredictable yet deadly efficient – was nothing Xander had ever seen.

Both were a credit to the title of royal retainer, regardless of their background or personal quirks.

/ / /

Ezekiel was not the genius in magic that Princess Anastasia had been. He was not as creative as she was in rearranging or writing the formulas in tomes, or the magic circulation pathways in staves. He lacked her genius in crafting curses, or designing barriers. He did not possess the massive magic reserves she had.

But Anastasia had been a genius amongst geniuses, and Ezekiel's talent lay in magic on the battlefield. He could have been the youngest to be the head of Nohr's Dark Knights had he not sworn loyalty and service to Xander.

Had he not died so early.

Seraphina, for a Malig Knight, had no great talent in magic. She could barely use a standard Thunder tome, let alone anything more advanced, and the magic she had was meager. When possible, she preferred using her axes and her mount to cut through her enemies in a vicious lunge, resorting to tomes in cases when there was absolutely no choice. When not in battle, she was a proper lady as befitting her status as the only daughter of Duke Pohl among three brothers.

Though Xander did not love her, he cared for and respected her. He could imagine a life with her at his side as the next Queen of Nohr. He would not have done as his father did, leaving his partner to waste away in loneliness and hurting everyone involved. He would have paid attention to her, and their child – or children – and spoken of small things in their lives. He would have told her what he told no one else, because though their marriage was arranged by those around them he trusted her. He would have listened to what she had to say, given her his support.

He could have grown to love her, given time.

Had she not died so early.

"He's concussed," Ezekiel's voice said. Xander's sight went black, but through gritted teeth and sheer force of will he pulled himself out of falling into unconsciousness.

It had been an ambush, a force hidden near the chasm. Somehow, word of his trip to the area had gotten out. One unlucky blow with a club to his leg during the ambush had distracted him from the spear headed his way, and though his steed had taken it in his stead, the falling horse had nearly crushed his already-broken leg, and delivered a hit to the back of his head.

And now – what was going on? Xander struggled against the overwhelming urge to sleep, washing over him like a merciless tie.

"Just a little more, my prince," Seraphina coaxed – but for what? "Mika, love, let Prince Xander on your back."

The wyvern whined, but bowed at her mistress's command. Somehow, despite his broken leg and full armor, Ezekiel, Seraphina and Mika got him onto the wyvern's back.

"This is where we part ways, my prince," Seraphina said. "The Hoshidans have us surrounded. Mika is young, but she's strong enough to get you to safety. Ezekiel and I will ensure your safe flight."

His safe flight. Not theirs. Through the haze the realization began to sink in.

"'Zeke," Xander slurred, knowing what they were about to do without his permission. "'Phina."

Ezekiel muttered a familiar incantation as he pressed his thumb into the center of his brow, forcibly straightening the crease that was beginning to find its permanent place there. Xander had never been good at magic, and he would not have been able to describe its origins and complete meaning like Leo would have.

But Ezekiel had served him for two years, and Xander knew what that spell was for. Swift flight. Luck. More of a prayer and a blessing than a spell, something that didn't seem like it belonged to a pragmatic Dark Knight.

"No," Xander managed. If only his sight would stop shaking so much and showing double of everything.

"This entire holding is filled with my magic already. The  _Hoshidans_ ," Ezekiel paused and sneered as he always did when faced with foes who lacked magical talent and skill, "haven't even noticed. I'll saturate them in it one last time, and then Seraphina can be the trigger to the explosion. Any flying units they have will be forced to help care for their wounded, while you get away."

Seraphina tried to smile. "He wouldn't let me leave him alone here," she joked. "Insisted that he was too scared to go down by himself, and, well, what could I do but indulge him, my prince?"

Such words would have normally triggered a protest out of Ezekiel, but the mage had no acerbic reply, and despite his condition Xander immediately realized its significance.

This was a suicide mission.

He may not have been proficient in magic, but he knew enough to understand what they were planning. Ezekiel's magic would engulf the area, and Seraphina's own magic would be volatile enough to set a violent chain of reactions. It mattered not that Seraphina had little magic, and not much finesse. It was enough to start the spark.

But his retainers would be at the heart of it. Some of the Hoshidans would survive, most likely, but they stood no chance of survival whatsoever. It was why Ezekiel needed Seraphina – he planned on putting everything into this one attempt, so that he would not be able to even set off what he had created.

"Rationally, logically, pragmatically," Ezekiel said matter-of-factly, quoting the famed words of a Nohrian queen from generations past, but his fingers shook as they straightened his cape – a habit of his that came out when he was nervous. "This is the best course of action. If we lose this holding, the Hoshidans get a threat aimed at Macarath. And we cannot lose Macarath. And more importantly, we cannot lose you, milord."

Seraphina made no jokes about vacation homes or going to enjoy the warm weather down south. There were tears silently streaming down her face, cutting a clear path across the grime and blood staining her face, but she managed to smile prettily at him.

They were scared. They didn't want to die yet, and not like this. And yet, they would.

"Godspeed, my prince," she said. "May the Dusk Dragon destroy those that dare to get in your way. Mika, go!"

They would give their lives so that he would live another day.

"No." The word came out clear, this time, even if it was all he could manage.

But Mika did not listen to him. The young wyvern did as her mistress commanded, and spread her wings wide before taking off into the air, in the direction of Windmire. Siegfried burned as a cross at his side as he tried to turn and keep his eyes on his retainers, growing farther and farther away. There was still time to turn back, he thought, fighting his body's urge to fall unconscious and tugging at the reins with his mouth.

The holding they escaped was the size of a dollhouse when it suddenly bled dark fire – Ezekiel's signature spell, designed to thrive even when water was splashed on its flames. His retainer had been inspired by Siegfried's own fire, and spent a few months tinkering with Fire tomes and several gemstones to make his own. He was never fully satisfied with it, claiming that one day it would be a tome to rival grimoires of legendary witch queens.

He would never get the chance to perfect it now.

Moments later, sound, slower than light, caught up to Xander's ears, letting him hear the tremendous roar of several explosions merging into one massacre.

He heard no screams, but he imagined them, a hundred screams struggling to live and protesting against the pain of slipping into the abyss of death without choice. Two were voices he didn't want to ever hear screaming like that.

Mika began to cry. For all their vicious natures, wyverns were astute creatures, capable of forming deep bonds with their masters when treated with love. And though Mika was young, she loved her mistress dearly.

Though Siegfried's fire burned constantly at his side, Xander could draw no comfort from the divine blade this time around – not when he had failed those close to him.

Camilla and a squad of wyvern riders met him before any unfriendly forces could, and took him to be healed immediately. He saw through the dizziness and confusion Camilla crying, begging him to be alright. As he was carried into the castle, he saw Leo, staves awkward and large in his small arms, stare in horror before rushing to grab necessary medicines.

As soon as he was recovered, he led an army to the holding that had fallen into Hoshidan hands, and took it back mechanically, no jokes or dry comments at his side to keep his spirits from plummeting. There were no bodies he could recover – the holding itself was gone, and only the ruins remained, but he took it anyways, and built a memorial in his heart.

That was two more names for Siegfried's sheath to bear – two more names for him to carry.

/ / /

Some prayed for the future. Some prayed of things done in the past. Some prayed about the uncertain present.

Xander prayed for all three. He prayed he would be able to protect those near him. He prayed that those whose names he carried would find peace. He prayed for the strength to continue another day, as Nohr's protector.

He prayed with Siegfried as he practiced in the morning, and before he slept. They were his rituals to start and end his day.

/ / /

Elise wilted, smile quivering until it was no longer there. Leo, at his side, scowled at the nobles that whispered in words loud enough to be heard by young ears.

_"So His Majesty will not show after all . . ."_

_". . . her mother's dead and gone. . ."_

_". . . waste of time, really . . ."_

All this, because Father had not made an entrance, and Xander was late. He declined being announced by the servant and entered quietly.

Before Camilla could go after the speakers with an ax and a poisonously sweet smile, Xander stepped deliberately through them, brushing by without pardon or eye contact. His presence cut off their words, and were replaced in their lips with stuttered apologies he gave no attention to.

"Elise," he boomed, projecting his voice loud and clear through the hall. This was the announcement he wanted – for them to see who spoke to the girl who had been born this day, and then to the bearer of the name.

His youngest sister looked up, and her eyes widened at how forward he was being. "Big Brother?" she whispered, the lisp of a young tongue still in her words.

He knelt on one knee and opened his arms. "Happy birthday, little sister. Pardon my lateness – I hurried as much as I could. Forgive me?"

"Big Brother!" Elise ran into his arms, wrapping short arms around her neck to the best of her ability. "Oh, Big Brother!"

Ezekiel was not a social person, but he had his contacts, and Seraphina kept an ear open for gossip. Both reported that Elise's mother had died from sickness, and that King Garon had never visited either.

Knowing what he did of that woman, Xander could guess just how much attention she had diverted to her young daughter.

His grip on her tightened.

"Happy birthday," he whispered, knowing that seven days was too short of a period to recover from the passing of one's mother, and that the day could not possibly be 'happy' for her. It was a wish, a prayer for it to be, and for all the days to come to be one filled with joy.

/ / /

Anastasia was raised by her mother's people, the Nightwalkers, until she was ten and the dragon's blood in her veins discovered. Azura lived with her mother in Nestra, away from the Nohrian court, until Queen Katerina's death meant Arete could marry King Garon and both be brought to court. Damian lived with his mother, in Macarath where he could study medicines and staves under the best healers Nohr had to offer, until she passed away and he had to come to court to join the rest of his siblings in Castle Krackenburg.

So when Father pulled him aside to tell him there was another sibling, Xander did not find it a complete surprise. It came as a slight shock, but it wasn't new to him that he might have had a sibling he didn't know about before.

The news that she was cursed gave him pause, forcing him to remember a bloody feast that cut down so many, and cursed his best friend.

"A curse?" he heard himself repeat.

"Yes," Father said gruffly. "She is cursed, which is why she hasn't been at court with the rest of you."

Xander tried to ask more, but Father waved him off, telling him he would be further filled in on the details later on by someone who knew them well enough.

More about the princess was explained to him by Sir Gunter, the famous knight.

"I was told by His Majesty that her mother died, trying to protect her from the curse," the veteran knight said, as he led Xander down the halls of the Northern Fortress. "And her efforts lessened its effects."

"What does the curse do?" Xander asked, thinking about Markus, and how the court mages said that the rot of his soul was spreading through his body, and how there was nothing they could do against it except try to lessen his pain.

It was easy to destroy, and hard to fix. But perhaps if Anastasia had been still alive, she could have helped break this curse.

Gunter paused. "In its current state, it erratically erodes her memories," he said. "There is no particular order to it. In the four months I have watched over her, she has been afflicted by it three times. The first, a day after I met her, she forgot about her mother, and her past life. The second, two months after, she forgot her knowledge of the Nohrian language. And last week, she forgot her birthday."

"'Forgot her knowledge of the Nohrian language'?" Xander repeated, in partial disbelief. "Her  _birthday_?"

"Indeed," Gunter said. "We would not have actually known that she forgot her birthday, except she heard a maid talking about her upcoming birthday, and found she could not remember it."

"So, she doesn't know if she lost her memories?"

"Sometimes. When she forgot how to read and speak Nohrian, she came up to me with a book in her hands and asked if I could teach her again. Other times it is subtler than that." Gunter paused. "I was told that I was the third to be her guardian. My predecessors left me some notes, and they have been somewhat helpful in my duty."

He wanted to see those notes himself, but Gunter insisted that he first familiarize himself with the young Corrin. The heir to the throne had duties, after all, and his time at the fortress would be limited.

Which was why he found himself entering a bedroom, with Gunter ahead of him.

"Princess Corrin," the older knight said. There was no one in the room, as far as Xander could see, but the man continued to speak like there was nothing wrong with the sight. "I have someone new for you to meet. This is Prince Xander – he is your older brother."

There was no movement, but Gunter gestured with his eyes.

Slowly, so as to not frighten her, Xander got onto one knee. "Hello, little princess," he said, remembering what Gunter had said about her not liking her name. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Slowly, as if curiosity was fighting against fright, Corrin peeked out from behind her bed. Warned in advance about her pointed ears, Xander gave no sign of surprise as he saw them in between the shortly chopped white hairs, and calmly waited.

When her eyes met his, a pink so dark it was almost blood-red, she flinched and ducked down behind the bed.

It stung, slightly, to see her react in such fear – already, he had grown used to the peace he had with Camilla and Leo, and the bond they had developed over Elise's presence – but more than that, his heart broke.

And, at the same time, hardened in resolve. Here was another sibling who had not yet fallen into the greedy claws of death. Here was a chance for him to do his duty as a Crown Prince of Nohr, as his kingdom's defender, as an older brother.

He would not fail again.

So, while Corrin hid behind her bed, out of his sight, he spoke in a soft voice about everything and nothing. He sat down on the stone floor, crossing his legs, introduced himself out loud to a seemingly empty room, and spoke about their other shared siblings. How Camilla liked her meat and sweets, but was grown-up enough to eat her vegetables. How Leo insisted on dressing himself, but sometimes wore his clothes inside-out. How Elise's first word was 'Mil', and to this day Camilla insisted she had been trying to speak her name while Leo thought it had been because she was hungry.

How he had a horse, a steady mare, and was training with her to be a knight. How he wanted to be the best knight in the whole kingdom, so he could protect Nohr, and everyone in it.

Like his siblings.

He started nervously, and while it was no doubt easier speaking to her than to his father, or the court, in a way it was also harder. What was there to talk about? He wasn't much of an interesting person, or a skilled conversationalist like Camilla or some of his other siblings had been. He could emulate them, certainly, and his efforts had allowed his skills in the field to improve, but there was a limitation to his ability.

All he could do was try. And so, for the rest of the week, he sat for hours in her room while she hid behind the bed. He didn't speak as much as he did before, but instead sat in silence, focused on some paperwork Ezekiel brought him. Homework, in a way.

He did this without looking at her, hoping to give her time to observe him, to come to the conclusion that he meant her no harm on her own.

/ / /

His efforts – and the efforts of his siblings – paid off. Slowly, Corrin grew closer to them, opening up like a blooming rose, until one day they found themselves family, comfortable around each other.

They were each other's homes.

/ / /

Finished with his morning practice, Xander placed his practice sword aside and began to go through his cooldown exercises.

A loud, clanging sound drew his attention to the rack where the other weapons were placed, and he found Corrin, tripped over knocked-over equipment.

"Corrin!" He rushed to her side, and was relieved to find that she was fine, just a little scratched up.

"I'm fine, Big Brother," she told him, smiling sheepishly. "I was just having so much fun watching you that I forgot to watch where I was going."

Despite her tripping, he smiled and ruffled her hair.

"One day," Corrin said, eyes firm as she gazed around the boundaries of the training yard on the roof of the fortress. "I'm going to become a great warrior and fight alongside all of you."

His hand hesitated.

/ / /

The curse didn't fade away, even with as much love as he – they – could shower on their sister. Xander thought of tales for bedtime, where true love solved even the foulest of curses, and tasted bitterness on his tongue, reminded once more of reality's austerity.

He was too old, too world-weary for love to be the solution to everything.

But the curse didn't fully wipe away everything, and for that he was thankful. Even as Corrin shook with nervousness as parts of her memories eroded away, she still looked at all of them with love and an innocence that he did not wish to see destroyed.

Innocence meant weakness and weakness did not survive long in Nohr, he knew. He knew, but . . .

The curse struck again, and they received word of it on way to the Northern Fortress.

Leo swore, softly exhaling the words through clenched teeth as he read the missive at Xander's side. Xander didn't bother to chastise him, because he was thinking something along the same lines as those expletives.

The timing was, well, they couldn't very well expect for a curse to have courtesy to anything or anyone, let alone plans made by siblings excited to show their sister the outside world, but it was atrocious, to say the least.

Gunter reported that it seemed to be serious.

Leo glanced at him, worry clear on his face. "What do we do, Brother?"

Xander took a deep breath, and thought of Corrin always looking outside her window with a wistful moue. How she had wished, once to the point of even sneaking out the fortress with Leo, to go outside. To see the world with her own eyes and feel it with her own hands and feet instead of reading about them in books and imagining what it was like, beyond the boundaries that were a gilded cage for her.

Innocence meant weakness and weakness did not survive long in Nohr, he knew. He knew, but he was also Protector of Nohr, and a Big Brother, and it was his duty to be the knight to shield innocence from harm. To face the darkness and defeat what monsters crouched in hiding in its folds, so that others could sleep safely through till morning light.

"Nothing changes," he decided. Lacking some memories or not, Corrin was still Corrin, who had wished on every occasion offered to leave the glorified prison she was held in. She had the best in the entire kingdom of Nohr willing to support her through this. A weakening curse, he assumed, was nothing.

/ / /

Later, he would think back and wonder if he made the right decision. If everything that followed afterwards was the consequence for his choice, and if it was all on his shoulders.

/ / /

"Is Corrin alright?" Xander asked, once Camilla left their sister's room. Knowing she wouldn't have left Corrin if she was awake, Xander assumed she was asleep.

"Yes, she's fine." Camilla smiled. "She just found it all to be a little overwhelming, but worry not – she was absolutely fascinated by everything she saw."

He sighed. "A relief," he said. "I was worried about how she would take in . . ." he gestured vaguely. Castle Krackenburg. Windmire. Nohr. The outside world.

"I know," Camilla said softly. "And, to be honest, I still do."

The nights in the castle were quiet and peaceful. They hadn't always been so in Xander and Camilla's childhoods, but they were now, and despite the memories that could not and would not be gone it was home to them.

She laughed suddenly, a soft, gentle giggle. A real laugh – one she now felt comfortable showing in front of him, and had been for years. "She told me that we're like her parents."

"Oh?"

Camilla pointed a finger at his chest. "You're the father, stern but loving." She turned the finger towards herself. "And I am the mother, doting and constantly,  _lovingly_  hugging, is what she said."

He laughed quietly, to not risk disturbing Corrin in her slumber. She was sleeping in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar, new environment. Slumber would likely be fragile for her. "Didn't Elise once say something like that?"

" _Mm_ -hm," Camilla hummed, looking very pleased.

Xander offered her his arm, and she took it. They wandered, him 'escorting' her to the wing of the castle where their rooms were.

"Do you think I could be a mother someday, Xander?" Camilla asked suddenly, when her room was in sight. Her eyes stared far, into some distant memory that was painful, but also dear to her heart. "A good mother?"

He didn't even have to think about it. "Of course."

She smiled wistfully. "You're sweet. And you would be, too."

"A good mother?" He feigned confusion. "I'm not quite sure about that, dear Sister."

Camilla slapped his arm jovially. "You know what I mean."

Xander let the corners of his lips turn upwards in a smile. "You're too kind, Camilla. Sweet dreams, Sister."

"Sweet dreams,  _Dad_." She winked and retreated into her room.

He couldn't pull down the upturned corner of his lips for a while.

/ / /

It was a memory he would remember with desperation and pain in the following months, as the world around him seemed to collapse and he pretended to be strong, clinging to everything he knew and held dear in the hopes they wouldn't leave him too.

/ / /

Corrin looked back at him, red eyes wide and desperate. Her pale hair was shorter than it had been, back when she still resided in a fortress and he could call her family with a smile on his face.

Xander missed those days. They were the time before this war officially erupted, and perhaps the only days of peace he had known in his entire life.

But halcyon days never came back once they were gone, and he had sworn to protect Nohr, no matter what fire he had to leap into to do so.

"You have to listen to me," Corrin said, gasping for breath. She was ragged and bleeding from wounds, but her eyes burned so bright that it made Xander pause. "I know you can't see them, but I swear, they're there, and they can see you!"

Over the devastated ruins of a neutral country that loved peace and music and arts, with more Shifters than he had ever thought to see in his life howling in pain of both the body and the heart as a battle song washed over them all like the blood running in the streets, Xander paused at those familiar words.

/ / /

"You win again, Brother," Xander said good-naturedly. He had long-since given up on trying to beat Leo in chess. All he could do was learn from his matches with his younger brother, so that when the opportunity to play against a different player ever came up, he could put to use some of the strategies that bested him and watch his frustration echo on the face of his opponent.

Leo nodded, and began to rearrange the pieces back to their rightful places. Pawns to the front of the lines, so they would protect the noble pieces and be the first to fall in the clash between black and white. Rooks to the outermost, knights at their side, with the bishops holding faith next to the king and queen, most well-protected.

"You play too defensively," his younger brother said in a low voice, but his words were clear. A chastisement.

Xander lowered his head by a minute angle, taking criticism where it was due and letting Leo know he appreciated it. "Perhaps."

He sighed. "Sometimes, Big Brother," Leo said, brown eyes fixed on the chessboard. The pieces were in their places, on squares of black and white, arranged so cleanly in a way that war never truly was. "You have to make sacrifices for the greater good."

He knew that. He really did. The king piece, after all, was the piece with the most restrictions and the heaviest penalties. All other pieces on the board could be taken, but when the king was put at the threat of a checkmate, it was over.

But he was no small piece on a monochrome board. He was the Defender of Nohr, the chosen wielder of Siegfried, and none would have to die to protect his life again.

He would not be a king needing protection from his queen, or from his pieces. He was never the best chess player, anyways – that honor went to Leo.

He would be a crown prince, and then a king, that would protect his people. This, he swore on Siegfried, on Nohr, and on the Dusk Dragon's name.

/ / /

Sometimes, in order to protect something, you need to hurt it.

When one answers to a calling and steps in the path to the position it requires, one must bear everything that comes with it – the responsibility of all the hate, the criticism, the lives fall onto one's shoulders after that point.

Even if the worst happens, even if you're hated for it, do it for their sake.

/ / /

"Milord," Laslow said. The mercenary always liked to keep a smile on his face, even when nobles looked upon him in disdain for his carefree ways. They dared not say anything to Xander in front of him, of course, but he knew of what they said. Laslow told him not to worry – that he was past the point where such words could even put a scratch on his self-esteem – but Xander worried.

There was no smile on the man's face now, and what the smile usually hid was all over his face. This was a man who had seen and lost things that could cripple a lesser person, and though he was able to continue functioning, there were some parts of him that would never fully heal from the experience.

Struck by the side of his retainer that he didn't see often, Xander listened to the man and the outlandish claims he made.

/ / /

Every choice comes with consequences, he was taught, and learned for himself through experience.

And as a prince, and as a future king, his choices came with very heavy consequences.

Knowing that, he threw his lot in.

/ / /

Always, for his family. Always, for Nohr.

Always the crown prince and Defender of Nohr, Xander offered to the gods his life and soul, and prayed it was enough.

What else could he do? What else?

* * *

**Birthright**

Siegfried's fire was flickering. The sign of the divine blade's dark flame dying would have once thrown Xander into despair, but he was already there.

It had been habit, reaching for the sword. If not for the habit of gripping his weapon with firm hands, he would have never reached for the blade when it still had Elise's blood dripping down it.

_Protector of Nohr, you have failed._

Was the voice in his head his, or Siegfried's?

Did it matter?

His sister stared back with pleading eyes and a golden sword in her hands. Elise's words echoed in his head, and ingrained duty tightened his muscles.

Everything in and around him clashed, and Xander was so tired. All his life, he had fought to uphold Nohr's honor and values as a paragon of a knight, to protect its people and its history, to fight against all odds.

Perhaps it had been a losing battle, and Nohr was meant to fall. Look at what he had done, slaying with his own hand the light in this dark kingdom, destroying someone he loved and swore to protect no matter what.

But his life was one that was built on the blood and lives of too many others, and to end without a fight was not in his nature. All his life he had tried, worked hard to do what was impossible without effort.

He could not give up. He did not know how. And he had no right to do so, not when his life was not his.

It was not his to take, but he would give it for Nohr. For all those that had died.

And though his body failed to muster up the strength he knew it was capable of, he still raised Siegfried. Though he knew what would happen if he fought like this, he still raised the divine blade.

He could not keep Elise's last words, her plea to him. He only knew how to give strength. Care and love, he had given – and lost too many of its recipients to rely on it

His strength, raised and forged through the blood, sweat and tears he shed for all his efforts, was all he could rely on, even now.

What else could he do?

What else?


	6. Chapter Two - Gift of Ganglari: You and I

It honestly felt like I was walking into the final boss's lair as I walked into the castle in the pit. Who the fuck decided it was a good idea to build their home in a hole in the ground? Even I, who sucked at strategies, knew that strategic advantage came from having a literal upper hand. Fighting upwards from in the ground seemed like a horrible way to get stuff done, especially when that 'stuff' was fighting for one's fucking life.

No wonder Birthright was the easier path, it was just attacking some idiots who had literally dug themselves into a hole.

"It's safe, right?" I whispered to Xander as we descended into what felt like the underworld. The black stones, the dark lighting and the general atmosphere of 'EEVUL' did not help things very much. "The walls won't collapse on us or anything?"

Camilla overheard, and she stifled a giggle behind a hand. "Of course, darling," she said warmly, keeping her voice low.

Xander cleared his throat, but I could see him trying not to smile either. I don't appreciate you people laughing at my very valid concerns. I don't appreciate it at all.

"Castle Krackenburg is in the ground for a reason," he said once he looked fairly certain he wouldn't burst out laughing. "The wards placed around it by the founder of Nohr and the Dusk Dragon himself are strongest when in the ground, thanks to Brynhildr's influence."

Leo glanced up at the mention of his tome. Camilla fluttered her fingers at him, and after a long gaze in our direction he looked back to the front.

"Not to mention," Camilla added. "There are hundreds of catacombs and underground passages in Windmire. The city below is just as alive as the one above, if not even more so."

Yes, but my pressing question still remained –  _was that safe_? Because from what they were telling me, there was a lot of secret passages leading to the castle. Like a shit ton of them.

Wait, wasn't that how we attacked Nohr in Birthright? Shit. That wasn't safe at all!

"Most of the passages are overseen and kept an eye on," Camilla promised when I brought up the point. "And Castle Krackenburg has impressive defenses and wards. Invaders must be wary of fighting on our home territory, especially when a wielder of Brynhildr resides in Nohr."

I gave up. Magic, right. That should tip the scales somewhat. How could I have forgotten.

Note my sarcasm, I spent a lot of effort on developing it.

My siblings wanted to take me to see our 'father', much to my silent horror, but a butler – who was nowhere near as good-looking as Jakob, take that you nameless NPC – informed us that His Majesty had retired for the evening.

It was only then that I realized how late it was. The days on the road were tough, because horses, cool as they were, just did not have the same comfort of cars. And don't even get me started on the unpaved roads. Ick.

Modern infrastructure and technology, oh how my sore butt and I miss you so.

Camilla and Elise dragged me to the bathhouse, claiming that the one in the Northern Fortress simply could not compare to the royal one. I gave a wave to the bros before they were out of sight.

And my game sisters were so right, because the bathhouse was amazing. It wasn't like one of those bathhouses in Koreatown my friend took me to once – and wasn't that an interesting experience, lounging around naked with other naked strangers – where they had pools of different waters with different temperatures and supposedly different special properties, because that would probably be expensive to maintain and all in a country not known for having a lot of resources, but it was a large pool of hot, steaming water made of marble or some other special rock, with water spouts as thick as my wrist carved as dragon heads.

There were also shower sections as well, made to pour water over the body from several spouts at different angles, also carved as dragon heads.

The end result was a cool bathhouse made of stone where I got to have dragons upchucking hot water on me.

They really liked dragons here. At least they weren't gargoyles or clowns.

Camilla sank into the heated waters with a sigh, looking very much like an actress in a movie. Not a cheap porn film or something, but a classy movie where nudity had some serious message yet looked incredibly sensual while doing so.

Elise and I had less grace. We just kinda splashed into the tub. At least Elise had the age thing going for her. Me, I guess I had the whole locked-up-since-memory-started thing. That, and the memory-wiping curse.

But dear video game gods, the water felt so good. It smelt like some kind of herb I couldn't identify – but that was hardly surprising, I knew like nothing about herbs – and the scent just washed away the stress I hadn't known was there.

"This is nice," I mumbled, feeling pleasantly sleepy. I could just fall asleep in here. A literal water bed. Never slept on one before, but there was always time to try something new, right?

"Mmm," Camilla made a sound of agreement.

* * *

Somehow, I dragged myself out and away from the bath. It had been delightful meeting such a fantastic creation of the world, but I had a true love awaiting me in a new setting.

In other words I wanted to sleep.

Camilla and I chatted after walking Elise to her rooms – she was nearly dead on her feet after bath time, and I ended up carrying her – but the moment my head hit the pillow, screw the slightly damp hair, I was out like a light.

And come morning, with Elise waking me by jumping onto me and giving me a heart attack to take me away from my one true love, I realized I had to go and see King Garon's face – y'all say it with me now, EW – first thing in the morning, to say hi.

I had to go and meet face-to-face with the man who wanted me killed because of some weird thingamabob. The goo-man. The evil – but not the big bad, apparently – of this world for me. The antagonist.

Without eating breakfast.

And that was an ugly face, too. The sight would destroy my appetite in the way a freshly microwaved Hot Pocket destroyed the taste buds on the foolish tongue that dared touch a smoking travesty supposedly safe for human consumption.

Fuck me.

[Mission! Greeting Garon!]

And  _fuck_  you.

[King Garon – your father – has finally permitted you to leave your home and prison in the Northern Fortress. However, you must prove your worth to him. First things first – give the King of Nohr a good impression of yourself and demonstrate your capabilities as a princess of Nohr!

Reward: The chance to prove your worth to him.

Failure: Death.]

Stop threatening to kill me with every failure! Fuck me, fuck you and fuck everyone for some fucking fairness because it sure as fucking hell isn't around here.

* * *

The royal castle of Nohr lived up to the reputation of the dark kingdom.

That is to say, it was cold and unfriendly as fuck. Not a good place for kids to grow up in. I was amazed that my adopted siblings grew up to be the outstanding citizens they were in this shithole. Clearly that blood of dragons thing was powerful.

In the throne room of EE-VULZ, I faced the final boss of the two routes I had played. And I bowed respectfully to the guy sitting in the throne at the end of it, on top of steps that seemed a little gratuitous.

King Garon may have been a womanizer in his younger years, but the man that remained now did  _not_  look it. Gaunt skin hanging like he was a reanimated skeleton or something – ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha – and hair that looked brittle and dead.

Let this be a lesson to all that were forced to lay eyes upon this fashion terrorific asshole:  _moisturize_. Frequently, from a young age. Otherwise, when a water songstress came along later to sing your hydration back you were just going to be groaning in increasing discomfort instead of enjoying the spa treatment.

I really had to look hard to find any trace of Xander or Leo or Camilla or Elise in him. And I sort of succeeded. Xander had similar wavy hair, and the high cheekbones. Camilla might have had his eyes. But it was dark as fuck in here because Nohr really took the dark kingdom thing to a whole new level of dedication and who knew, I couldn't tell what color his eyes were from this distance.

As for the rest of it, fuck it, I gave up. It wasn't like it mattered.

"You've come a long way," King Garon said, er, deeply from his dark throne. The walls behind the throne, high on too many steps for my neck's health, had what looked like trees or roots spiraling upwards. They really took this 'deep-in-the-earth' thing seriously in Krackenburg, it looked like. Almost as deep as the guy's voice.

Yeah I know, I sounded really stupid, but he really had a deep voice, okay. Like, it sounds almost pointedly evil in its ominous deepness, but deep.

But not too deep like one of those bass voices that just makes the room vibrate like a subway train rolling into the station or something? But still impressively deep.

Focus! Quest threatening my life still going on with this evil mofo at the heart of it!

Right!

"I see you made it here safely, Corrin," he continued on, taking one hand off his armrest to place against the side of his face like he was thinking about the best ways to kill me.

My back did the reflexive straighten.

"Yes, Father," I said, rolling over my suddenly blanking head and trying to shake down my fucking brain for some nice, smooth on-the-fly bullshit that I was so good at. "I have wished to see Castle Krackenburg and you for the longest time now." Shit that sounds too much like I was grudgy about not being here till now. "I – It still feels like a dream, I must admit."

"Hmph," King Garon grunted.

Holy fuck. Oh gods above and below that were not kind to me, have mercy upon my poor soul. Tell me he wasn't a tsun-dere or however the fuck you pronounce that word. Can you just imagine this corpsefucker blushing and averting his creepy eyes and saying shit like 'i-it's not like I thought of you or anything' –

Oh god I think I'm going to be sick.

Luckily King Garon did not explore his tsundere side and trigger my rebellion of his EE-VUL plans a lot quicker than the canon game storylines. "It is no dream, and only thanks to your diligence that you are here."

I nodded, before panicking over whether he would approve of nodders or not. Verbal answers! Pull your face into a contrite setting!

"Of course, Father."

Garon's eyes slid over to Xander's face, who, befitting a crown prince trained and working hard to become a king of an entire kingdom – high on crack as it was stuffing their important palace into a fucking hole of all things – wore the poker face far better than I did.

"I am told," he said, a slip of paper in his hands that I hadn't noticed before. "That you are now a warrior almost on par with Xander."

Xander did not answer, but merely kept his face straight. I guess that was what Garon was looking for in his eldest son, because he looked satisfied.

I wasn't, though, because this dude sent out his strong warrior children out to fight and I didn't want any of that shit.  _Any_  of it.

"Xander is the strongest knight in Nohr." Let's try the humble approach, in case he decides that his son's word is good enough to throw me out onto the warfront. "I still have much to learn."

Preferably in a safe place. Like, not on an  _actual_  battlefield. I sent silent prayers and wishes with my eyes towards the guy currently registered as my legal dad, hoping that the Force or the power of will would do something to save me.

"You will do so, while proving yourself a valuable instrument of Nohr's power in the world, on the battlefield."

Clearly humble was the way to fuck myself over. Also, the Force did not exist and my willpower was negative five hundred and two.

"But, Father!" Elise, sweet adorable darling Elise, protested on my behalf while I struggled to find the words to say something that would hopefully make this situation go a little better. Words other than 'you motherfucker why'. "Will she be alright outside of the fortress?"

"Yes, I worry about that as well," Camilla added, smoothly taking over for Elise. "Would it not be dangerous for Corrin to live outside of the fortress's magical barrier?"

Magical  _what_  now.

Also if that was a thing why were you guys so happy to see me out of it?

No, wait, they only started protesting when I was told I'd be going on the battlefield. So they were just trying to find an excuse to send me back.

I silently cheered them on. Hopefully their case would make a point with old corpse-breath over there and do something for the better.

Except Garon was a boss villain of Birthright and Conquest for a reason, and he screwed me over.

"Nohr is at war with Hoshido," he said, almost spitting out the last word like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Cool, dude, but not my fucking problem. I wasn't the one who looked at a king in the neighboring kingdom and decided, hey, this is a beautiful night to order arrows to be shot into him before whacking him with my ax. That's on you. That's all on you.

"And Corrin, like the rest of you," Garon continued, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Is a descendant of the ancient gods, the First Dragons. As an inheritor of the divine strength, she will also be able to conquer those who oppose us with ease."

He turned his creepy dark eyes on me, and I lowered them to the ground to not show my real emotions. Poker faces were not my thing.

"A wielder of the dragon blood can destroy an entire army of common troops," he said. I took that to mean a lot of people since I had no idea how many people made up an army.

Hey, I have no military background or random trivia knowledge hanging around in my perfectly normal brain, don't judge me.

"Xander, Camilla and Leo have all proven their worth and demonstrated the power running through their blood," he said, and I gave up trying to guess how many people that meant, settling at 'a lot'. "I expect no less from you."

Well, shit. The bar was sky-high, wasn't it? And Leo was younger than I was so I couldn't say anything like 'I'm too young'.

"I am aware of your expectations, Father," I said. And your expectations suck balls, man. Smelly, dirty, blue balls that haven't been washed for days. "I will strive to be more like my siblings with all my efforts." Like my siblings in the sense of realizing what a dick you are and doing the world a favor by getting rid of you like they did in Conquest, that is.

Garon chuckled. "I will hold you to your words," he said, and I nearly flinched. "But first, in order to prove your worth and serve Nohr, you will need a suitable weapon. The divine weapons have already chosen their wielders, but I have ordered a gift to commemorate your coming to Windmire."

He clapped twice, leaning on one elbow to clap slowly and solemnly, and a butler stepped out from the sides, something long and covered with cloth in his arms.

"The sword is your preferred weapon, I have been told," he said, as the butler removed the cloth to reveal a really creepy-looking sword on a cushioned tray. I mean it was curved and kind of the color of dried blood and just looked like something the evil guy would be waving around so I think I was justified in saying that?

Besides, I knew the future, and spoilers, that thing blows up. Excuse me if I'm a little reluctant to get near it with enthusiasm.

"Thank you," I said, and I added nothing else. No 'I love it!' or 'OMG for reals?' or anything. Just an obligatory 'thanks'. Personally my preferred weapon was peace. I'm also normally all for gun control laws being stricter but right now an AK-47 in my totally untrained and unlicensed hands sounded pretty great.

Garon either didn't notice or didn't care. Jerk.

"This is Ganglari," the mofo said proudly. And even the name of the evil bomb sword that looked like a huge evil steak knife was weird and sounded mean, like it was 'glaring' or something. "It has been infused with magic from another world."

Was it my world? If so, can it take me back?

"With this sword at your side, you will crush the Hoshidan army with ease," he said, like he wasn't giving me something that would fuck me over.

"What a generous gift, Father," I said, feeling like it was the exact opposite.

"Generous indeed," Xander said, but he looked troubled. Oh goody, so I wasn't the only one getting the feels of doom and gloom. Feels I could live the rest of my life without feeling.

Garon looked pleased, though, like the cat that got the cream. "Yes," he said magnanimously. "Now, let us see you put that gift to its proper use."

My siblings all tensed like they were waiting for the hammer to fall.

"You will prove your worth to me," King Garon – er, Father – said at last. "In the arena! Bring out the prisoners!"

Ah, fuck. Ain't this a bitch.

* * *

There was a time in high school when I was in love with the Hunger Games franchise, because the thought of a badass chick with a bow and arrow being someone important and overthrowing a corrupt system was so cool.

My brother did say something about how the girl had been swept up into a game far beyond what she had expected and really, wasn't she more of a piece than a player but fuck him, I'm still mad at him for all this.

I'm getting off-track. Hunger Games. Popular franchise that became a movie and grew even larger, flung the actress in the lead role into fame and money, and lead her to many things, including tripping on the steps to the stage where she was supposed to get her fancy trophy for being a great actress. Other than all the fun stuff related to that, a large part of the plot was related to people getting their rocks off on watching kids fight to their deaths in an arena.

It had sounded morbid but cool when it was fiction. It was a fucking terrifying thought when I was the one to do it.

Jakob and Gunter were, of course, going to be helping me. Great, two silver-haired fighters at my side. In terms of coolness I had my poor opponents beat.

In terms of skill?

Erm, how did the tutorial go again? I fought, you know, Kaze and what's-her-face. The fire girl. Fuck, I know their names. I  _should_  know their names. What was her name?!

I nearly panicked until I realized it was probably unnecessary for me to really know her name. It wasn't necessary for me to know what her name, or really Kaze's name. In fact, it would have been downright impossible for me to know the names of these 'random' Hoshidan prisoners.

So into the arena me and my two silver-haired fighters went. And I wasn't being metaphorical there because Krackenburg had an actual fucking arena in the pit of the castle it had.

"You will fight the prisoners from our recent skirmish with Hoshido," Garon's voice boomed down at me from where he stood, above the arena in the prime seats like some dark Roman emperor in a pimpin' fur cape ready to turn his thumb to play with my life at his whim and fuck me over with a single assholish gesture. If the audience disagreed with his judgement, he'd probably fuck them over too. "Cut them down with the Ganglari and prove your strength!"

The unsaid 'or else' was also received, loud and clear.

At my side, Gunter discreetly loosened his joints and cracked some knuckles.

"My lance arm may be a bit rusty," he said firmly. "But it will still serve you well, milady."

Rusty? Are you telling me that you knocking me to the ground in all our spars was you being rusty?

Fucking hell.

Jakob scoffed lightly at that, ever the king of snark, but he was also loosening up his joints and cracking his knuckles.

"Someone of your advanced age couldn't bear the burden alone," he sniped, before giving me a beautiful smile. "Lady Corrin, worry not. You shan't have to dirty your hands with this filth. Please relax and leave the fighting to us. Afterwards, I will prepare you some tea."

He sounded like he was trying to reassure me. Meaning he did not think I could do this on my own. Meaning that by his judgement, which I trusted a lot more than I did mine, I was definitely not qualified or ready to fight.

On the other side of the arena – who the fuck had an arena inside of a castle that was fucking underground except for EEVUL people honestly overcompensating much – Nohrian soldiers with their pointy helms came in, roughly lugging and pushing in Hoshidan-dressed people in rough conditions. Their bindings were cut open without much concern or care for not cutting them, and then the handful of people – six, from what I counted – were free. Roughened up, angry at Nohrians, slightly bleeding, dirty and free, ready to face all three of us.

[Mission: Defeat the Hoshidans!

You have been gifted with Ganglari, the sword imbued with magic from a different world! King Garon expects you to demonstrate great power as befitting the dragon's blood that runs thick in your veins. Fail his expectations, and death will be the least of your worries!]

Fuck. You.

[Defeat the six Hoshidans and prove to King Garon that you are not a failure! This is also the first time that you are in battle with more than one unit, so make use of your resources wisely and remember, death cannot be reversed!

Rewards: King Garon's partial approval of his choice to keep you alive; the opportunity to move onto the next chapter of the tutorial; a chance to improve your much-needed leadership skills; your continued survival; EXP points.

Failure: Death, either of you or the unit(s) under your command (Gunter, Jakob).]

Fuck me, ain't this a bitch.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on my [Tumblr](https://huinari.tumblr.com/) where I usually ramble and post snippets of future uploads.
> 
> Sweet Dreams~


End file.
